Loren
by Sandra S
Summary: You think you knew her ... but sometimes things are not what they seem to be. COMPLETE
1. The Beginning

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note: Have you ever seen one of those pictures you look at and see something and then you change your position a bit or just think of anything else and suddenly you see something completely different? So this is my very own homage to the "late" Lieutenant Loren Singer - and a look at the sometimes strange occurrences at JAG from an outsider's point of view.

Warning: I will not change what has actually been in the show; I'm just playing with the interpretation. It's still a character death and I won't fix any H/M or W/M pairings here.

--

**1999**

* * *

**- CIA Headquarters, Langley, an interrogation room**

Loren once more flipped through her files and glanced at her watch. She had been early, he was late. Well, the privilege of a superior. She felt nervous. Brand new Deputy Director Webb had a certain ... reputation. Although the gossip about him was even more vague as gossip used to be per definition. For example word had been over the last four to five months that he was on the brink of getting fired because of some insubordination in Italy. Instead he had been promoted five weeks ago. But still - she had heard that working with him could be ... difficult.

The door flew open and Loren jumped on her chair. A man in a dark suit walked briskly into the room, shut the door and then proceeded to the other side of the table where he stood and considered her closely. Loren's gaze searched the name tag on his chest. She was surprised. She had never pictured Webb to be so young, probably around forty. Webb continued to stare and Loren felt more and more uncomfortable. What was he waiting for? Had he expected her to get up?

"Your hair is too long," stated Webb suddenly and dumped his file with a thud on the tabletop. "Have your hair cut, at least six inches."

Loren's mouth fell open.

Webb sat down. "And pull it back. Not a ponytail. I think most female officers with longer hair wear it in a bun or something like that."

Loren wasn't able to respond at first. Then she felt anger bubble up in her. She loved her hair and she loved it like it was. Besides, she knew that she looked ... harder when it was out of her face. She already disliked this man.

"Well, Loren," Webb opened his folder and didn't bother to look at her, "I've been informed that you were already briefed during my absence last week. Code name, connecting procedure etc. I hope you've done your homework. By the way, I'll call you just by your first name because I sometimes have to be at JAG and don't want to get used to your real surname. And calling you Firefighter all the time would be annoying. So..." He quickly turned some pages and frowned. "So let's just have the ground rules repeated."

Instead of going on he sat back on his chair and pressed his fingertips together. Once more he considered her closely with narrowed eyes. Loren swallowed her anger and forced herself to sit motionless. She stared back. The seconds ticked by. Suddenly Webb nodded as if she had passed a secret test and started talking again.

"Rodriguez Senvealda. A drug lord first of all and a very successful one, but to a minor rate he is dealing with everything promising high profit. Weapons, technology, information. And now, just a few weeks ago, Naval Intelligence has found evidence for the possibility that Senvealda's organization has managed to established connections into the Judge Advocate General of the Navy. The evidence is weak, to say the least, but still, it's there and it can't be ignored."

At this point Webb bent forward and rested his elbows on the table.

"JAG and especially the higher ranks have access to sensitive matters within the Navy, the government and even covert operations of different intelligence services including the CIA. A leak could be highly dangerous for this country. It seems fairly sure that the connection is at a low level and that it hasn't existed for long so far but it's bad enough. Naval Intelligence is checking the staff but there are a lot of people and they have also other things to do - what ever that may be."

Loren started to grin but quickly grew serious again under Webb's cold stare.

"So we're going to offer Senvealda a bait he hopefully can't resist: An aggressively ambitious attorney who's getting nowhere with his - or better her - effort. Your rank is Lieutenant that's high enough to be interesting for Senvealda and low enough to be no threat, to contact a Commander or even higher rank would be much more dangerous for his organization. We don't think that Senvealda has important contacts in government or society, but maybe enough to offer Lieutenant Singer what she wants most: promotion. And that's a great opportunity for us to find out about his other contacts."

Webb tapped his fingertips together.

"Well, you've studied the profile of your role and the records of the other officers you'll have to deal with at JAG. The first time, let's say about two to three months after your transfer to JAG, you have to establish your character and show the assumed leak how perfect you are as a source of information - with the appropriate payment. If there is a contact, we'll see how to react. Anyway this shouldn't take too long. Half a year up to ten months then we'll pull you out. I suppose you're appreciating the timetable considering you're current ... family status."

"It would be helpful," commented Loren. Webb ignored her.

"I had to work with JAG in the past and because of that I'll supervise this operation myself. You're reporting to me and only to me - or to a person I've explicitly told you to report to. And to put this clear: I'm not interested in gossip. What we need is proof or denial of this leak and nothing else."

He paused again for a second and seemed to sort out what else to tell her before he continued.

"As I've said, it's not unlikely that I'll show up there every now and then - although JAG is off limits for covert operations as long as the possibility of a leak exists. I hope I don't have to tell you that we don't know each other, have never known each other and will never know each other concerning the people at JAG. Any questions so far?"

Startled by his brusque attitude Loren needed a moment to gather her thoughts. Then she crossed her arms on the table and glanced quickly at the papers in front of her.

"Well, considering the time I'll need to establish my - Lieutenant Singer's - reputation ... wouldn't it have been more efficient to use one of the current staff members?"

"I thought you've read the files."

"I did."

"Then you should know that there is no person with the profile we need - and can trust. Besides that, there are two more reasons why it's impossible to use any current staff members for this investigation. Firstly it would be highly suspicious if someone suddenly started to act like it is necessary to catch Senvealda's attention ... not considering the fact that no one there is even able to act this way. And secondly - and more important: it would mean to inform the JAG about this investigation."

Loren's eyebrows shot upwards. "You're keeping the JAG in the dark about an investigation within his chain of command? Is he a suspect in any way?"

"No, he definitely isn't. But Admiral Chegwidden is known to take matters in his own hands and to have a ... rather explosive temper. So it was decided that the investigation would be more effective this way."

"If he really has such an explosive temper it'll be no fun to be around when he'll find out," Loren commented dryly. "Whose decision was that?"

"Not. Mine." Something in Webb's voice warned her that she had just overstepped a line. She bit her tongue. 'Really great, Loren, you and your big mouth.' Quickly she changed the subject.

"Then... Still: Why is a CIA attorney playing the bait? It's within the borders of the United States. The CIA is not allowed to operate under these circumstances."

"Naval Intelligence has asked the CIA to help out. So they are theoretically responsible for this operation and that makes it legal, Miss Lawyer."

"They asked for our help?" Loren repeated incredulously. "Excuse me, but that sounds very unusual to me. I've just started working for the CIA but even I know that the competition between the different intelligence services is ... quite hard to say the least."

Webb's face showed no expression. "They couldn't come up with an appropriate attorney. Not immediately."

Loren snorted. "They couldn't come up with one or they didn't want to because they wanted to keep their hands clean? Or are they afraid of Admiral Chegwidden's temper?"

"You can think on your feet, Loren, I appreciate that," Webb tilted his head a little bit. "But keep focused on the really important things. Any further questions?"

Loren groaned inwardly. All right, probably she deserved this dressing down. She cleared her throat.

"Well, one last point... Concerning the marked files..."

"Ah, yes." Webb clasped his hands tightly. His expression darkened. He gazed at his papers and frowned. Then he suddenly looked up again.

"The characterization of Lieutenant Singer has been carefully worked out to reach our goal. And so are the details how you are supposed to interact with the officers with marked files. I want to make this very clear: I don't want you to have personal connections with these people. Of any kind! No come and have dinner with me. No let's have a drink together after work; if you can help it. And especially: NO I'll do you a favor! I can't stress this point enough. Don't be nice, be overambitious. Put your career above anything. Is that understood?"

'Translation: You know these people well, maybe consider them friends and hate betraying them like this. And you're trying to protect them from being hurt by a false friendship.' Loren couldn't help feeling sympathy for Webb.

"Yes. You can count on me."

Webb narrowed his eyes. "We'll see if that's true."

Loren's sympathy faded quickly.

"Anything else?"

'Besides that I don't deserve to be at the receiving end of your bad mood?' Loren kept her gaze at her files until she had her anger under control again. Then she looked up, opened her mouth ... and froze because of the sarcastic look he was giving her. Oh, God ... she had spoken aloud. Her cheeks started to burn. But it was unfair to treat her this way.

"I - I'm sorry," she murmured not completely honest.

"I doubt that," Webb stated dryly.

Loren gulped. It looked like she had real problems now.

Webb snorted. "But don't worry. A lot of people who are telling me to be sorry don't mean it. So consider yourself in good company."

Loren just stared with big eyes. Humor? Was this ... humor?! She really didn't know if she should like or dislike this man.

"All right." Webb placed both hands on the table and got up. He gathered his files. "We'll have one more briefing tomorrow. Do something about your hair and get used to the uniform. Thursday you'll go in as a visitor, making yourself known a bit. In three weeks will follow your permanent transfer with the help of the SecNav. So we have time to finish building up your background and you have time to dig deeper into the abyss of military law. Then you're on your own."

"Ah, Mister Webb!" Loren quickly jumped to her feet. Webb stopped, his hand already on the door handle, and raised his brows. "I've got one last question: What if my - Lieutenant Singer's - efforts lead to a promotion? I mean if I try so aggressively..."

She was caught by surprise when Webb laughed shortly.

"Loren, believe me: Stick to the behavior created for Singer and you'll get nowhere at JAG. Not under the command of Admiral Albert Jethro Chegwidden."


	2. Hunt

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episodes: Rogue, Mishap

* * *

**- JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia**

Loren really had a hard time to suppress a grin as she walked back to her desk. Good God! It was impressive how Webb's predictions were hitting the nail on the head. Especially when it came to Commander Harmon Rabb junior. Throw yourself at him and he'll never stop running. Well, those weren't Webb's exact words but very much the core of them. Oh, she had felt terribly embarrassed as she had walked into Rabb's office a few minutes ago with the intention to do exactly what she had been told to do. This behavior was so ... well, embarrassing. But much to her surprise: It worked.

Next time leave the door open.

She shook her head. Definitely impressive. It was her first hard shot at him and he already couldn't stand to be in the same room with her - alone. That man wouldn't touch Singer with one finger. Not in his personal life and not in his working life as long as he could help it. Poor Commander. Unfortunately she had order to go after him in both sections. Up to a certain point. Webb had made very clear that she wasn't supposed to overdo it. But his face when she had sneaked in and shut the door... Loren quickly restored control over her features. A mischievous grin wasn't appropriate on Lieutenant Singer's face.

She sat down at her desk, glanced at the files piled up to her left and heaved a sigh. Concerning the main staff including Admiral Chegwidden she had made quick and very successful progress to establish her - Singer's - character. Colonel Mackenzie hadn't even remembered her first visit at JAG and without knowing it she had managed to push Lieutenant Sims' buttons all the right way. Wow, that had been a first day at work. Some military officers had some really strange ideas how to serve this country. Stealing the Declaration of Independence, threatening to blow up the Statue of Liberty... Sounded more like something out of a TV-show. At least the story hadn't made it into the newspapers this time. Anyway the important thing was nobody liked Singer. Loren grimaced a little. The cases she was given were extraordinary telling proof of that. Unfortunately that had been the only progress so far.

There had been a case the Commander and Colonel Mackenzie had worked on ... about drug smuggle into the States... But it had turned out to have no connections to her mission. For the rest... At the moment she didn't know what to think of JAG headquarters and the officers in it. But it seemed the relationships between those with marked files - Admiral Chegwidden, Commander Rabb, Colonel Mackenzie and Lieutenant Roberts including his wife - were ... rather complex. Especially between Rabb and Mackenzie - and this Australian.

Loren frowned a little. Brumby was easy to see through: He was clearly going after the Colonel. Her feelings were a different thing - as were Rabb's. Loren wasn't sure what was going on but there was a certain kind of underlying tension ... as if Rabb and Mackenzie would either fall into each other's arms - or go at each other's throats. Or maybe both, the big question was just the order of events. And depending on that it would be a firework ... or very, very ugly.

Shrugging mentally Loren dismissed that thought as interesting but unimportant. She had other problems to deal with, including putting up a good show of "Rabb-hunting". A strange man anyway, this Commander Rabb. His file had shown an extraordinary career within JAG, despite some really crazy stunts he had pulled, and then that man had thrown everything away like it had been nothing. Active flight duty - in his age! The reasons for that she simply wasn't able to understand. But aviators probably had to be a special kind of human being.

Lost in thought Loren fingered the tight bun she had wrapped her hair into. It had been surprisingly difficult to learn how to do it properly and somehow she still feared a strand could come loose. Forcing her hand down, she picked up the next folder and placed it in front of her.

Well, Rabb and the relationships or not existing relationships in this office weren't of any interest as long as they didn't jeopardize her mission. Although she was curious how everything was going to develop. And for her mission: It was a matter of time and patience. And she intended to be patient.

* * *

Episode: Into the Breech, Life or death

* * *

**- A dark parking lot of a supermarket, somewhere in Virginia**

Loren shifted her bags in her hands and walked quickly along the rows of parked cars. There was barely enough light to read the license plate numbers. Narrowing her eyes she tried to get a better look while at the same time checking her surroundings. Near the fence she finally found the number she had been looking for. Without a pause she walked through the narrow gap between the passenger's side and the next car and got in. The interior light faded shortly after she had pulled the door shut.

"Good evening, Mister Webb." Loren stored her bags in the leg room.

"Loren," Webb answered the greeting. He turned the ignition and backed the car out. By the time he was heading to the exit Loren had covered her hair with a black cap and propped the right elbow against the door. Her hand shielded her face in a seemingly casual gesture.

"And?" Webb shot her a glance as soon as they were out in the street.

"Not much." Loren sighed. "I'm working, I'm waiting but no approach so far."

"Any suspects?"

"No. I'm working on a list but ... it takes time."

Webb shrugged. "We've known that from the start. Anything else?"

"They don't like me as ordered. Oh, and they're doing a commercial about JAG and the Navy." Loren grinned. "I made sure that I never appear in it."

Webb glanced at her and his face revealed nothing. "How?"

"Just the usual Singer-behavior. I told them I wanted to do it and of course they chose anyone but me."

As Webb didn't answer she considered him closer. He didn't look pleased.

"Mister Webb?"

Webb took the next turn before he answered. "Be careful with that behavior. It's useful but also dangerous. Not all people have the same moral standards as Chegwidden and his staff. If someone takes you at your word you'll have trouble."

Loren's good mood faded. It had amused her how most people reacted to the Singer-attitude of running them over but now she suddenly felt stupid.

"Look, Loren." Webb took another turn. "You're lacking experience. You know that. We skipped a lot of the normal procedure because it's so to say an indoor assignment. But still, this isn't for fun. Just keep this in mind."

"I understand." Loren was fighting her hurt emotions.

"I'm sure you do."

They drove in silence for a few minutes. Loren swallowed her anger. To be honest, he was right. She was inexperienced - because she had never considered to be chosen as a field agent. Not really. Oh, of course, she had had some crazy little dreams ... like probably anyone had who started working for the Central Intelligence Agency. The cinema one-hero-rescues- the-world dreams. Or the TV the-skilled-team-saves-the-day dreams. Nothing serious. Just the usual. Her labor contract showed the word lawyer and as that she had been supposed to work there. Until this mission came up ... and she had been available. She cleared her throat.

"The Australian has been ordered back by his government. He left yesterday," she reported calmly.

"Yes, I know. Moving good-bye scenes?"

Loren glanced at Webb. Was this disrespectful remark his way to tell her that the scolding was over?

"A little. By some."

Webb's response was a grunt. He directed the car to the side of the street and stopped. Loren reached for the door handle but first had to stifle a yawn. Her superior chuckled.

"What, so tired already?"

Loren yawned again. "I'm a hard working, ambitious young lawyer. I've got the right to be tired. So if you don't mind, Mister Webb?" Hesitatingly she added a little smile to her answer. 'Don't push it this time, Loren,' she admonished herself.

"You're a hard working, ambitious young lawyer and spy," Webb replied in mocking criticism. "Go and find your bed."

Loren rolled her eyes, grabbed her bags and struggled out of the car. Webb immediately pulled out into the traffic. She sighed and started walking. She still didn't know if she liked the man or not.


	3. Progress

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episodes: Promises, Drop Zone

* * *

**- JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia**

"No!"

"Is that your last word, Lieutenant?" Loren kept her face perfectly still as she asked the question. She knew this expression was very useful to throw Lieutenant Roberts off stride. The Lieutenant blinked but this time held his ground.

"It is," he confirmed.

"Well, then, as the Admiral has pointed out earlier ... you're first chair. It's your responsibility. So if you'll excuse me - I've got to finish another report."

Loren turned on her heels and walked straight to her desk, so Roberts had no chance for an answer. Settling down she pretended to be busy gathering papers together. For real she was peering out under her eyelashes to the still startled Lieutenant who was standing in the middle of the bullpen for some more seconds until he shook his head and went to talk to his wife. Of course to complain about Singer's newest misbehavior.

Loren suppressed a small, unhappy smile. Mission successfully completed: She had to be the most disliked person within JAG - especially under those members of the staff with marked files. Although she really wondered sometimes what Webb might have in common with Lieutenant Roberts. Or with anyone of the marked files because whenever she had heard any comments about the Deputy Director - rather few comments to say the least - they hadn't been exactly friendly. Some had even been outright accusing - especially those just a few weeks ago, when a flight with Commander Rabb and Colonel Mackenzie on board had been hijacked. Why was Webb so intend to protect them?

Sighing Loren dropped that thought. All in all it wasn't her business. Her business was to find the leak - and there was really very little progress in sight.

Across the bullpen approached Gunnery Sergeant Galindez Colonel Mackenzie and they talked. Then Mackenzie nodded and returned to her office. Galindez looked around and his eyes met Loren's. For a moment he gave her a cold stare then he walked over to Petty Officer Tiner.

Lost in thought Loren chewed on the end of her pen. Gunnery Sergeant Victor Galindez. Well, it seemed that was one more trace going down the drain. Too bad. She glanced down at the pen, realized what she was doing, rolled her eyes and took it out of her mouth.

'Damned old habits!'

She scribbled a G on a piece of paper. Galindez had had such a perfect profile. A former Marine, then with the police in New Mexico ... one of Senvealda's backdoors to enter the States ... and finally an offer to join the JAG staff not long before the first rumor of the leak had come up. He had taken quite some time to agree... Waiting for orders? The information about the leak had been so vague that it could have been the rumors of a possible leak... Well, maybe that came from too far away.

She drew a circle around the G. Anyway, she had dangled the proverbial carrot in front of his nose and he had refused to take it. If the analysis was right Senvealda's organization should be eager to build up a web of favors within JAG. So Commander Rabb's request to help with some research concerning a recruiting officer had been a perfect opportunity to play the ball into Galindez's field. His look had been very telling when she had taken all the credit for the information. Unfortunately that had been all.

Sighing she crossed the G out. He hadn't told the Commander. And he had never come back to her about owing favors. His behavior was rather chilly now but absolutely correct in all points of the protocol. No hints. Nothing to complain about. Nothing...

Slowly she put a question mark behind the G. Was it possible that he was just acting? That he had sensed something? Or that he had simply decided Singer wasn't worth the effort? No. Sighing again she blackened the question mark. She didn't think so. Possible was everything but probable? Most probable Galindez was exactly what he seemed to be. And that meant she was still getting nowhere.

She ripped the sheet of paper off the pad, tore it once, crumpled it up and dumped it into the waste-paper basket. Sorting through the files on her desk she tried to refocus on the case she was handling together with Roberts. She grimaced a little. Personally she didn't like their client. What she had read in the B part of the mishap report was strongly indicating that the accident could have been avoided - but that wasn't her responsibility to judge. The man was her client and so she was bound to do the best for him.

If only Roberts would be a little bit less... irritating. At least he was understandable again, although she sometimes wished his jaw would still be fixed ... only sometimes. He wasn't that bad a lawyer - a rather decent one indeed - but that wasn't enough with a prosecutor like Colonel Mackenzie. Damn, the woman was good. Singer was supposed to be a pit-bull? Well, she was nothing compared to Mackenzie's determination when the woman was prosecuting a case. No wonder the Admiral was putting her in that position more and more often.

Loren rubbed her temples. She knew she was walking on a very fine line between doing the right thing for her client, keeping up Singer's character and using her own skills as a lawyer. Sometimes she wished she had had more time to study the details of military law. That crash course at Langley had been intense but nevertheless exactly that: a crash course. Nobody was able to learn in a few weeks what was normally studied for years! She was still spending most of her free time on reading and learning. Thank God she had always been a quick learner.

Suddenly sensing a presence she looked up.

"Yes, Petty Officer?"

"The file you've asked for, Ma'am." The young man held out a manila folder.

"Ah - thank you." Loren took it and glanced inside. The Petty Officer didn't move and she looked up again.

"Anything else, Westland?" She raised an eyebrow. The young man didn't look as uncomfortable as he was supposed to be at this gesture.

"No, Ma'am. Nothing." He walked away.

Loren frowned then shook her head and concentrated back on her work.

- JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia

Loren fought hard to rein in her emotions as she walked quickly across the bullpen to her desk. She was very aware of the not too friendly glances she received from anyone as soon as she wasn't looking. Pulling back her chair she made a show of sitting down and shuffling through her papers. Staring into a file without seeing it she sighed inwardly.

All right, maybe her last line about going to be the first female JAG had been a little bit too much. But Commander Rabb's blunt threat to destroy personally the career of the person who had placed the mishap report into Colonel Mackenzie's car had hit a nerve. The last thing she needed was a blood-seeking Commander Rabb following any of her steps.

Loren rested an elbow on the tabletop and put her chin in her hand. Nevertheless - how did that report land in Mackenzie's car anyway? She had acted on instinct when she had immediately objected to the Colonel's line of questioning. Especially because her own copy of the report was missing as she had discovered just a little bit earlier the same morning. She had never considered Mackenzie to go to such lengths but you never knew...

Loren tapped her fingertips against her lips. If that report had really been placed into the car - and she wasn't entirely convinced that Mackenzie's statement on that was true - who did it then? And why? Galindez? He had to know that Mackenzie wasn't allowed to see the B part. He had to know that one look could bring her in serious trouble... Serious trouble. Serious trouble for the prosecution - luck for the defense. The defense. Lieutenant Roberts and herself.

Loren narrowed her eyes. Favors. Trading favors. Doing favors...

"I've heard your client has been lucky."

Loren tried not to jump at the casually speaking voice behind her back. She turned and stared up to Petty Officer Westland. Her heart thundered against her rips.

"So. Did you hear that." She pushed any emotion out of her flat statement.

Westland smirked a little. He lowered his voice even more. "With so many evidence excluded Commander Rabb's had no other choice than offering you a deal. Colonel Mackenzie would have been a much harder nut to crack."

Loren got up. She was relieved their eyes were on the same level so her hard glare had even more weight.

"You placed the report in her car," she whispered. It wasn't a question.

The smirk was still on Westland's lips. "Looks like you owe me."

"Owe you?" Loren closed the already tiny gap between their bodies. She prayed he wouldn't sense the fast beating of her heart. "You've searched my desk."

Westland's smirk shifted a little.

"You've taken my report."

The smirk started fading.

"And what is more: Now everybody thinks I've put that report into Mackenzie's car."

Now Westland wasn't smiling any more.

"And that could be highly damaging to my career!" Loren added a little more sharpness to her voice. Westland looked now quite unsure. She stared right into his eyes.

"It looks like you owe me a favor."

The Petty Officer looked now rather confused.

"Dismissed!" Loren threw all her authority into her hiss.

Westland almost snapped to attention and made a hasty retreat. As he walked away he glanced back over his shoulder.

Loren waited until he had disappeared around the next corner before she sat down again. Not a bad thing because her knees were shaking. Her sudden excitement swept away any thought of the case or the still hostile looks or even of Mackenzie's fate. A trace? Was that - a trace?


	4. Patience

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episode: Surface Warfare

* * *

**- Rock Creek Park, Washington D.C.**

Deep in thoughts Loren jogged along the small natural path in the park. She passed another group of runners, considering them quickly out of the corner of her eyes as she did. Although she was going at a higher pace than most people on the track and her old sweatshirt was wet all over she was satisfied with her pulse rate and breathing.

Moving on autopilot she concentrated back on more important things. Like Westland. Webb's check - or better the check done by Naval Intelligence at Webb's request - had brought up nothing extraordinary. Not that anyone had expected something of that kind.

Andrew Westland. Age twenty-four. Parents lived near Charleston, South- Carolina, running a little gas station with a shop and being respected citizens of their town. The only sister married and proud mother of three kids - at the age of twenty-eight. Joint the Navy two years ago. Different assignments, the transfer to JAG because of a recommendation of his last commanding officer. No bad remarks in his service record but also nothing especially good. Participating in the usual social activities within the JAG staff of his rank but nothing special or doing it overly enthusiastic. No reported contact to old high school friends. No drug abuse known.

Loren scowled, picking up her pace. And that was all. Not much to go on. She approached two running men from behind. They turned their heads as she was at their side, noticed she was a woman and suddenly decided to do a quick sprint. Loren rolled her eyes. Men.

OK, not only. Women too. God, that look this Renee Peterson had given her... Well, she probably would too if someone was so obviously going after her boyfriend. She really felt greasy all over as soon as she switched on her Rabb-hunting mode. It was so ... well, probably a violent ugh explained it best! Even if she had been free... The man was handsome, all right. She would admit he had a dashing smile. But he simply wasn't her type. What an annoying job.

She reached the next hill, contemplated her options and finally voted against pace and for an equal pulse rate. She slowed down.

Westland. First she had thought she had shooed him away too efficiently. Thank God the boy was stubborn. But still, it was a difficult and strangely complex dance they were forced to do around each other. They had very carefully established first strings of an invisible web of favors. But it was really hard to tell if the Petty officer was acting on orders from outside ... or if he was just a kid having the hots for a woman higher up in rank.

Making the top of the hill Loren took the path leading back to her car. Her breathing was still regular. She shivered shortly as she went over her last train of thought again. Frightening imagination she could be wasting her time with a love-sick nobody. On the other hand ... there was something about the young man that was starting to give her the creeps the longer she knew him. Well, at least Webb was pleased with the progress.

Now she had just to survive the Surface Warfare Ball. Small talk with Renee Peterson, Harriet Sims and Sarah Mackenzie. She shuddered. Or, even more dreadful, with the male counterparts. Except for Mackenzie. Her counterpart was sitting in Australia. That was still a surprise. She had nearly fallen off her chair as Mackenzie had come back from Australia wearing Brumby's ring. On her right hand but still - wearing his ring. As unexpected as seeing Rabb dating Renee Peterson.

Well, at least they had a relationship. She had made up a date because Singer would have found a way to participate in the ball no matter what... If the poor boy knew the truth it'd be the surprise of his life. He wasn't that bad, quite sociable on the contrary. She just hoped she wouldn't break his heart when she was going to ditch him. Although she was supposed to built Singer's life inside and outside of JAG she definitely didn't intend bringing anyone innocent into danger by knowing him or her too close or for too long.

She sighed long and hard. Some things were necessary even if not pleasant. Somehow working undercover inevitably included hurting people - usually the wrong ones. There was no way to change this. And it was darn lonely. Without a way to change that either. She pushed these thoughts aside.

Getting her car in sight Loren slowed down to a fast walk and checked her pulse. Not bad. Really not bad. But coming back to the ball, she didn't have all day. She had to shower, get dressed, take care of her hair... She was still grieving for the ten inches she had had to have cut off. Anyway, she had really needed this little exercise to get her head clear again. Sometimes it was hard to be patient. Or to be so hard.

* * *

Episode: JAG TV

* * *

**- Parking lot of JAG Headquarters**

"Can I help you with that?"

Loren looked down at her really not very heavy briefcase and back up at the man in civil clothes. He was flashing a smile.

"Do I look so weak?" she asked back.

"Oh, no, no. I just - err - I just-"

Loren grinned. "And you are a reporter from...?"

"Why do you think I'm a reporter?" The man was definitely a bad actor.

She sighed theatrically. "Because you are a civilian in the JAG parking lot and inside is a trial that's sheer candy for any reporter who can get his hand on it. And one of the reasons for that is that the prosecutor is a certain Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie of the United States Marine Corps. So newspaper, radio or television?"

The man had the decency to blush. "ZNN."

"Uuuh," Loren stretched the word, "I'm impressed."

"Well..."

"You've got a name, Mister ZNN?"

"Stuart Dunston..."

"Stuart," Loren repeated and smiled, "Loren Singer."

The reporter considered her outstretched hand. He looked very surprised and a little bit worried. Loren fought back a laugh. The poor boy had probably had some encounters with other JAG staff members before. And most of them were reacting rather ... harsh ... because of the invasion of Colonel Mackenzie's private life. Well, that wasn't her problem and she sure didn't blame that boy for doing his job. What was more, some connections to the press could turn out to be useful - and that was something Singer would think about for sure.

Stuart finally shook her hand. Then he looked what he would probably describe as innocent.

"You know Colonel Mackenzie?"

Loren laughed and started walking again.

"We're working together." Not exactly a lie. Just the truth a little bit overstretched.

"Oh, really?" The reporter's interest jumped quite some degrees. "What's she like?"

"Buy me a cup of coffee and maybe we can talk about it," Loren challenged with a flirting smile. She didn't intend telling the boy much and for sure nothing out of Webb's files. But enough so he would be in her debt. Dealing with Westland had taught her a great lesson how to do that.

And who knew - maybe she'd discover something that could help the Colonel win her case. Of course she'd have to mask her source ... like the friend of a friend had heard something from a friend. Or something like that.


	5. Complications

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episodes: A Separate Peace 1+2

* * *

**- A forest, somewhere in Virginia**

The small, unpaved parking lot appeared in the light of the headlights and Loren slowed down even more. The sound of the engine and of the tiny stones under the tires seemed to be very loud in the silence. At the weekends the parking lot was crowded beyond anything but now in the cold and darkness of an early evening it lay deserted under the faint light of the stars.

Deserted but for one dark car, now visible in the cone of light. Loren pulled up at its side and turned the headlights off but kept the engine running. She peered into the darkness and after a tense moment the interior light of the other car was switched on for a second and immediately off again. But it had been enough to recognize Webb's face.

She breathed a sigh of relief. She had already discovered that the pleasure of secret meetings was highly overestimated in movies. At least her heart was always nearly jumping out of her chest until she was sure the dark figure was who it was supposed to be. Especially in such a lonely and in the darkness creepy place like this. But with a real trace they had to be even more careful.

Quickly she secured the car and got into the passenger's seat next to Webb.

"Well, Loren, I hope it's important."

Surprised Loren raised her brows. Uh-oh, if his voice was any indication Webb's mood was more than bad. And she had learned soon not to play around in such a case - that man had a tongue like a knife if he wanted to.

So she simply pulled a sheet of paper out of her pocket and said: "I've got a name."

"What?!"

Loren grinned inwardly. 'Well, now I've got your attention.'

"It seems Westland is finally convinced Singer can be something good - if treated well. Or somebody behind him has decided it's worth the risk. Anyway, you know he has indicated more or less hidden for quite some time that he could be very helpful to my career - Singer's career. That he has friends who are very interested in me - and in positions to act accordingly. And after a little nudging he came forward with that name."

Webb reached up to the light and turned it off again after reading the note.

"Damn it - a Captain," he murmured quietly. In the darkness she wasn't able to see his frown but she knew it had to be there. "Then it's going higher up than we've thought."

"Westland's said he's stationed somewhere in Norfolk. I wasn't able to get more out of him - and I didn't want to press too much, I was afraid to shy him away."

"No problem, if that guy exists we'll find him. Good work, Loren." Webb folded the note and put it carefully in the inner pocket of his coat. "What do they want in return?"

"Nothing so far. At least nothing more than the little favors we exchanged over the past months. But I'm sure there's something bigger coming."

Webb drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "All right, so we have to wait and see..."

He was silent for some minutes, just the tapping of his fingers continued. Loren made no attempt to interrupt his thoughts. These last months had been a dangerous walk along the edge and she was more than glad to have Webb as superior. Whenever she had called she had either been able to reach him immediately or he had called back within never more than two hours. And she had needed his guidance a lot. The favors she treated with Westland contained all sorts of information. Small things usually or at least they looked small - but you never knew and she didn't dare thinking of possible consequences. Thank God it was his responsibility to decide what to give and what to deny. For nothing in the world she would have changed places with him.

"All right," Webb repeated suddenly, "Keep me updated. Anything else?"

"Well..." Loren hesitated but then continued, "Colonel Mackenzie and Commander Rabb are investigating accusations against an Admiral Boone... I've heard them talk about a CIA operation in Vietnam - Phoenix, I think - and..."

"God, don't remind me of that," growled Webb angrily, "I've already had a visit from Harm - the Commander. Two actually!"

Loren glanced at him. Well, that probably explained his bad mood which had now returned in full force. It seemed Commander Rabb's visits hadn't gone well for Webb.

'Definitely time to change the subject, Loren!'

"So... no, there's nothing more-" She shrugged. "Except that I'm spending a lot of spare time on Admiral Chegwidden's car."

"His car?" Webb asked puzzled.

"Yes. First I went through a hearing People against a Ford Expedition and now - that I've won - the police have lost it."

"People against- What did he do?!"

"Lent his car to the son of his ex-girlfriend and the boy used it for transporting drugs."

Webb laughed out. "AJ really has it this time! He... Wait a second. Did you say drugs?"

Loren turned her head and met his serious eyes. Then she cursed. How could she have missed this? She had seen Chegwidden's mishap as an opportunity to play out Singer's oh, I'd do anything to get your attention side but never...

"That would be a big coincidence," she remarked after a moment of thinking.

"It would be," agreed Webb, "But never chance it. I'll have a good look into it from the other side. You stay put; I don't want to stir up anyone with you snooping around."

"I understand." Loren was still scolding herself and felt slightly embarrassed. "Uh - I'm sorry, I'll call tomorrow and give you the details available, numbers etc. I can't recall them out of memory."

"First thing in the morning," ordered Webb dryly. He checked his watch. "I'll give you a 15 minute head-start."

"Yes, Sir." Loren just mumbled the words. Wow, that dismissal was almost like one of Chegwidden's. She felt Webb's calm gaze in her back as she climbed out of his car and into her own. Well, she didn't mind leaving this deserted place first. Sitting in the darkness and waiting for the minutes to go by wasn't her favorite activity.

* * *

**- JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia**

Loren stared a second at Commander Rabb's retreating back then at Gunnery Sergeant Galindez.

"Well, then, I suggest you'll start right away," she snapped pointedly.

Ignoring the Gunny's cold but correct "Yes, Ma'am" she turned on her heels and headed to her desk. While pretending to shuffle the papers she slipped a hand in her bag and snatched her cell phone. Her very special cell phone also nothing in its appearance gave a hint of its secret inner life. She had understood less than half of the technical explanations but the most important facts were easy to remember: It was almost impossible to bug and was supposed to work nearly anywhere.

Looking around quickly to make sure nobody was paying attention she got up again and left. The first conference room she tried was already occupied but the next one was empty. Standing by the window she dialed the familiar number and waited impatiently. He took the call at the fourth ringing.

"Webb."

"Firefighter."

"One second." Loren heard a rustling sound. "That's all for now. Shut the door." Some seconds of silence. "All right, Loren."

Loren drew in a deep breath. "I think we've got problems. Admiral Boone's case is going to trial. Commander Rabb is defending and has chosen me as second chair."

"That's great," scoffed Webb annoyed, "So I can wait for him to drag me to the stand."

"Oh, I think he's absolutely determined to do that," agreed Loren, "But the problem is that ZNN knows about the trial. It's very unlikely they'll get permission for their cameras in the building but outside is something else."

Webb groaned. "The last thing I need is an appearance on-" He paused suddenly. Loren could almost hear the wheels in his head turning as it hit him. "Oh, DAMN it!"

"I'm just second chair but I'm not sure I'll be able to avoid the cameras at all." Loren rubbed her forehead in an attempt to soothe the slight headache starting between her eyes. This was a complication of her mission no one had expected.

"All right." She heard Webb's sigh through the line. "I need a list. Who can be a problem? Your fiancé."

"Yes," Loren started counting on the fingers. "My fiancé. My grandmother is nearly blind and rather absent-mindedly lately, I don't think she watches much television. Mom is dead, my father is with his second wife in Europe and so is my sister. But my uncle and his family might be a problem. And some friends..."

They went through the list until Loren was rather sure she had covered anyone who would be able to recognize her - and have an interest in doing so. All in all there weren't too many people but still enough to keep Webb busy.

"What are you going to tell them?" Loren eyed the door nervously. "Except for Richard they think I work as assistant legal adviser in a company in Boston."

"I know what you are supposed to tell your relatives," Webb replied gruffly, "And we don't change this story. There's a Navy Lieutenant who's looking quite similar to you and that's all. We just have to make sure those you have regular contact with will react the right way. And that your fiancé is already suspicious of what you do could even be helpful this time."

Loren grimaced a little. She had received a sharp dressing down as she had let it slip that Richard had a pretty good idea about what she really did for a living. Although he didn't know where she was and what the mission was about. Webb had given her a long and harsh speech about duty and the meaning of classified. It wasn't a conversation she liked to remember.

"Ah ... Mister Webb ... maybe I should talk to Richard."

"No, I'll handle your fiancé. You stay focused on your work."

"I- maybe you should know..."

"What? Come on, Loren, I don't have all day!" Webb's voice showed his growing impatience.

"Richard isn't very happy about ... my long absence," Loren rushed out. "I mean this operation is already running longer than we've thought in the beginning and ... and..."

"I see." And strangely Loren really had the feeling he understood. "I'll handle him. Now go back to work."

The line went dead before Loren was able to respond. For a second she just looked at her cell phone before she put it away. She had told Richard that she was going to apply to the CIA the day she had received the result of her last examination. And that she didn't intend to work as a field agent. She had never really told him that her application had been accepted - it hadn't been necessary. She knew he had understood by himself. Then, when she had explained that something had come up and she had to go away for a while ... that she was officially working in Boston but he shouldn't try to come and visit her, too much work and a stern boss, maybe traveling for the company and not in town ... he had simply looked at her and had asked her to be careful. Again he had understood.

Sighing she walked to the door. Because she had not much private contact with anyone of the JAG staff it was fairly easy to sneak away for a day or a weekend and stay in touch with the inner circle of her friends and relatives. It would have aroused suspicion if she had disappeared from one day to the other and the distance from her supposed workplace to her home town wasn't an excuse for breaking up any contact. But it was most of the time more strain than fun and dangerous too - she always feared to be followed and blow her cover. It was quite a possibility that Senvealda's organization had put her under observation.

So she preferred phone calls but that wasn't the same. And it didn't help one bit that her cell was programmed to put any call on the voicemail except for a few hand-picked numbers. She simply couldn't risk getting a call from a friend while being at the office. She couldn't risk giving her voicemail a better greeting than the announcement of her phone number. She couldn't risk having a life - and at the same time she couldn't risk having none because it would arouse suspicion.

It was paradox, it was exhausting and it was very frustrating. But she had no choice. Drawing in a deep breath Loren carefully rebuilt Singer's cold face over her own and left the room.

* * *

**- The courtroom, JAG Headquarters**

Loren watched as Rabb's and Webb's eyes met briefly then her superior was gone and the commander started questioning a very alive Corporal Drax. She couldn't help shaking her head a little.

That was it? A look and an almost imperceptible nod? Considering the rather strange ... friendship between these two men it probably was.

Loren listened a second to Rabb's questioning. The commander was a wizard in the courtroom and even outside an intelligent man ... normally. Was it really possible he didn't see what Webb had just done for him? What risk he had taken?

Webb certainly did, his late night call yesterday was proof enough of that. He had clearly noticed the consequences of his actions mixed up with his earlier testimony in court. Loren was still shocked that he had turned to her for advice. Well, not exactly for advice. But for her recommendation as a lawyer and as an eyewitness to his testimony.

Did Rabb really not see the complications for the CIA and for Webb's career? The Agency didn't look good in this trial. A trial with half of the spectators belonging to newspapers, magazines or TV stations. It didn't look good because of the Phoenix operation itself, their files and reports ... and then there was Corporal Drax. And quite some people at the Agency detested nothing more than bad publicity.

Loren shot a glance at Stuart Dunston. The journalist was whispering with a colleague. Maybe she should have a word with him afterwards. Anyway she'd have to smooth his ruffled feathers because she had used his information so openly. Well, he was a reporter. He would understand. It wasn't like- She almost fell off her chair because of Rabb's next words.

"Then why did you come to testify in this court after all?"

Loren all but jumped up and objected. Was the man crazy?!

There was a wicked gleam in Drax's eyes. "I'm getting a nice pension from the CIA. I was told I'll lose it if I don't testify."

Loren squeezed her eyes shut. She had to fight the urgent need to strangle Rabb. As much as she understood his reasons as a defense counsel - she wasn't stupid, she knew he wanted to point out that Drax had no reason to lie - but HOW COULD HE?! Didn't he see how this could destroy Webb? Hadn't he realized how close Webb had come to lying under oath in Colonel Mackenzie's cross-examination?

Oh, Webb had made very clear, by his actions and by his words, that he had read from the file when he'd testified Drax had been killed. Read from the file and not answered because of his own knowledge. But unfortunately Mackenzie's questioning had later driven him into saying that the reports had usually been done thoroughly.

Webb was Deputy Director. Of course he had had the necessary access to find out about Drax's pension. And of course he had done it - thoroughly as he was. That it had been forbidden territory to talk about had been a matter of unwritten Company rules.

Loren pinched the bridge of her nose. She prayed - prayed - that none of the reporters would make the connection between the two testimonies. Unfortunately Webb had had to walk into this courtroom together with Drax. Damn the man, he had been well aware of the difficulties and did it nevertheless! But it was a good guess that the former corporal would have never taken the stand if Webb hadn't been right there to kick him forward.

Hopefully the attention of the audience had been distracted enough by the man risen from the dead so most of them hadn't seen Webb leaving the courtroom. Hopefully Drax would have enough sense to keep his mouth shut when the reporters were going to jump at him after court.

Loren watched Rabb sitting down. Was this man really that blind? Or did he simply not care?


	6. Casualties

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episode: Touch and Go

* * *

**- JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia**

'Well, that's an interesting composition over there.' Loren eyed Commander Rabb's office. The only advantage of being Singer: normally there was no need to mask her curiosity - because Singer would stare anyway. She didn't want to know what her behavior was probably called but it made work a lot easier.

She thought again of the brief conversation between Rabb and his former partner, Lieutenant Commander Pike, which she had overheard a few minutes ago. So the Lieutenant Commander had had a special encounter with Admiral Hollenbeck ... and that man was now a nominee for the Navy's Inspector General... Well, well, but nothing unheard-of. Why should things in the Navy be any different than in civilian life?

Lost in thought she opened and closed the book she was holding. More interesting was the interaction between Rabb and his three women. Renee Peterson, Caitlin Pike ... and Sarah Mackenzie. She wasn't sure because she had stood across the bullpen but he had seemed to be rather shocked when Lieutenant Sims had started squealing about Colonel Mackenzie's engagement ring - finally at the left hand. She still wasn't able to figure out what was going on between Rabb and the Colonel... Maybe the two weren't either. Although Mackenzie now seemed to be sure about the course of her future.

Loren snorted. Well, it had taken the woman long enough to make up her mind. Their trip to Australia had been what - a year ago? Brumby surly was patient. Hopefully Richard would be like him... Turning away Loren headed for the library. She knew she was asking a lot of Richard. Maybe too much. She still wondered what Webb had said to him. All he had told her was that this man had explained some things to him. He had changed the subject when she had asked what kind of things. And Webb she couldn't ask. God, she wouldn't dare!

Speaking of Webb - he had been surprisingly often at JAG headquarters the last three or four months. Usually she got a phone call just minutes before he appeared in the bullpen and was ordered to keep Westland off his back. Especially the first time had been rather abrupt because the train of events had Webb himself taken by surprise. But a plot to assassinate the Russian President could certainly be labeled an emergency.

Well, Rabb and Mackenzie had saved the day over there and Rabb had even found some lost brother, could you believe that? But right now it seemed to be not such a good thing to have a brother to worry about. Having a relative being a prisoner of war... No, that wasn't easy.

Standing between the book shelves Loren allowed herself to lean against one for a moment and close her eyes. She felt tired. Tired of her role, Singer's selfishness she had to act out, tired of being alone, of missing Richard and her friends... That was the hardest part of this game. The loneliness. No one had prepared her for that.

Sighing she stood upright again. It was no use musing about fate and the future. She searched and found the book she had come for, headed out of the library - and nearly bumped into Petty Officer Westland.

"Ma'am."

"Petty Officer."

Westland looked significantly past her and after a second she turned her head and followed the direction of his gaze. Admiral Hollenbeck was just disappearing out of sight. She looked back at Westland.

"A difficult man, this Admiral," the young man commented.

"Why, you know him?" Loren tilted her head.

"I don't but some friends of mine."

"Friends?"

"Friends." Westland lowered his voice. "Your friends too actually. They're a little bit ... anxious. The position of the Navy's Inspector General is quite a deal."

"You've got an interesting choice of words," stated Loren dryly. "How am I supposed to take that remark? You know someone better than Hollenbeck to fit into the position?"

Westland considered her closely. And Loren held his gaze unwaveringly. Westland was intelligent, ambitious and absolutely ruthless when he wanted to reach a goal. To misjudge his youth and underestimate his wits would be a dangerous mistake. Their first encounters had almost led her to make this mistake once - and it had almost cost her dearly. But she would not be careless again.

"Someone much better," replied Westland finally. He looked around but Loren knew he was watching her every move. She tried to think quickly.

"Well, unfortunately for ... our friends ... he's got quite some support," she probed carefully.

"Unfortunately. But, you know, things can change."

Loren raised a brow. Her voice wasn't more than a whisper. "And how?"

"I'd have thought that you as a lawyer should be able to come up with some possibilities," Westland murmured back.

Loren looked into his face and immediately knew what was up. Favors. Favors and a test. She felt her hands sweating.

"Oh, I can think on my feet as someone told me once. It's just a matter of ... motivation."

"Then I recommend you to feel ... motivated." Westland's eyes darted around. "But let's talk somewhere more private. Later."

He smirked somewhat and turned away. She followed him with her eyes.

* * *

**- Outside JAG Headquarters, a little bit later**

Loren walked nervously up and down. She couldn't get through to Webb. Damn the man, why was he right now talking on his phone? And for so long?! Holding her cell phone to her ear she tried again. This time the line was free and Webb picked up immediately.

"Webb."

"Firefighter."

"All right, shoot."

Loren drew in a deep breath. "The big thing is coming."

Webb waited for her to continue.

"In plain words: They don't want one of the nominees for the position of the Navy's Inspector General. They've got some preferences. And Westland as good as asked me to figure out a way to throw Admiral Hollenbeck out of the race."

"That's a lot," commented Webb after a long pause. "You're sure this is coming from higher up and not because Westland wants to put himself in a better light?"

"I am. And it's a test. They want to see if they can trust me."

"Why do you think that?"

"Westland's given me the name of their candidate."

Webb coughed. "No impossible! They can't move that fast!" He was silent again. "You're right. It has to be a trap. If we take their man out of the nominees they will know you're leaking information the other direction. And if you don't try to fulfill their wish you'll be at least on their wrong side for a while..." She heard him shift the receiver as he continued talking to himself. "But no, there's no way... Hollenbeck has quite strong support..."

"Actually ... there is," Loren said slowly. The silence on the line was heavy.

"Explain that."

"I've overheard a conversation. It seems Commander Rabb's former partner - a Lieutenant Commander Caitlin Pike - has been under Admiral Hollenbeck's command when he was Captain. She told Rabb she once ... got into a situation of sexual misconduct."

"Confirmed?"

"She never reported." She heard Webb breathe.

"Can Westland know about this?"

"I don't know. I really don't know. Maybe he was just probing. Maybe he just wanted to push me and see what I can come up with. He asked for possibilities... It would be too much coincidence ... too much thinking ahead. But this information, even unconfirmed, would be very damaging if made public."

Webb was silent once more. When he spoke again his voice was strained. "I'll call you back."

And the line was dead.

* * *

**- JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia**

Loren eyed Pike's back and had a hard time to keep her face unmoved.

You get my contempt? Wow, she had already taken a lot since she'd started working at JAG but that topped it all for the moment.

'You've got no idea, lady. No idea.'

The problem was: She deserved it. And she understood Pike's hurt feelings. But the Lieutenant Commander had been caught up in a secret war she had never been aware of. She was, so to speak, a necessary casualty. As was Hollenbeck.

Smoothing her uniform down Loren headed for a drink. God, she needed one right now. When Webb had called and given her the go to leak the information to her ZNN-acquaintance Stuart Dunston... If it had been so damn necessary why did she feel so dirty?

"Ma'am?"

Loren jumped slightly. She hadn't seen Westland stepping up to her.

'Pull yourself together, Loren!' she chided herself, 'You can't afford this musing!'

She accepted the glass he was offering her. They didn't look at each other as they talked quietly. Loren considered the crowd of Mackenzie's and Brumby's improvised engagement party, Westland busied himself with studying the wall.

"That was a nice move."

Loren wanted to throw up at the compliment. She took a sip.

"Just luck. I saw the opportunity - and took it."

"If you say so. It was more than we thought possible. But it was a nice move. Ma'am. Our ... friends ... are pleased."

Loren lowered her eyelashes to cover her emotions. She murmured into her glass. "I hope so."

"You won't be disappointed."

Westland brushed past her and wandered away. Loren watched him a second then tore her eyes of him. Well, they had to wait and see what'd happen next. Their friends were going to be very disappointed that their candidate wasn't going to make it either - despite his newly grown support now that Hollenbeck was out of the race. Webb would take care of that.

Unfortunately this didn't make her feel any better. Not one bit.


	7. Sacrifices

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episode: Collision Course

* * *

**- A forest, somewhere in Virginia**

Loren rested her head on the steering wheel and closed her eyes. God, was she tired. No, was she joking? She was far beyond tired, she was at the brink of a coma! There couldn't have been a worse time for the senior staff members together with Lieutenant Roberts to be off to the Mediterranean dumping all the cases in her sorry lap.

It wasn't the amount of work itself. It wasn't working long hours or the pressure of time. Heck, she had made a practical course at one of Chicago's most famous law firms and there walking out at 10 p.m. had been intolerably early. Not to mention that the first meeting of the day had sometimes been scheduled at 7:30 in the morning.

No, what was wearing her out now was working in the manner of Singer. Alone. No one to share a simple joke with or to ask for advice without losing face. No matter what she was doing, she had to do it in Singer- fashion. She really had a sign on her back ... and it had Singer written all over it. Oh, darn it - normally it wasn't her thing to complain openly but once or twice the frustration had gotten the better of her, so... Oh, she wished she'd have kept her mouth shut.

Loren sighed deeply and sat back again. Even if she wanted to help she had to do it in roundabout ways. Like saving Michael Roberts from Victor Galindez. Wow, if looks could kill! Galindez really took his job as sister- protector seriously. She just hoped Bud Roberts would never learn how she had gotten his brother off the hook. Her words about the boy hadn't been the nicest of the world. Well, it had worked. But she could have done without Tiner overhearing the conversation. It had only forced her to tell another lie to cover her tracks.

But on second thoughts: Had it really been that much a lie? Involuntarily she shivered. Sometimes her role felt ... way too natural to be comfortable any more. Singer seemed to be ... so real sometimes. So near ... as if looking right over her shoulder...

'I should really do something about my lively imagination!' Loren shook her head. This wasn't good. She had always considered herself a down-to-earth person. And now it was even more important to be one - tired or not.

Thankfully Webb chose this very moment to drive into the parking lot. He was out of his car and in her passenger's seat before she could even open the door.

"Loren."

"Mister Webb."

Loren took a look at him and then added a second one. She had come to know this man very well over the last months and so she sensed immediately that something was up. But she knew better than to ask.

As usual Webb jumped right into the subject. "Chegwidden's car has been a blind alley, nothing to watch out for from our side. Our Captain in Norfolk is more interesting at the moment but under control. How are things at JAG?"

"Rather quiet these days." Loren gathered her thoughts. "Westland's friends have been disappointed because of the new Inspector General but not too much. And I don't think they're blaming me for the outcome."

"Any luck with other moles in there?"

"No, nothing. I still think there is no one else involved in Westland's little sideline, at least no one who is giving information consciously. Except for me of course. Why do you ask? I thought we were agreed on that one."

As Webb didn't answer Loren felt a sudden wave of hope washing over her. Had he finally decided to end it? Were they about to plug the leak so she would be able to leave JAG for good?

Webb rummaged through the big envelope he had brought with him and handed her a photograph. A portrait of a man, not really handsome, maybe in his twenties, nothing remarkable in his features. After studying it for some seconds Loren tried to hand it back.

"No, I don't know him."

Webb made no move to take the photo. "His code name is going to be Foxhound. It isn't necessary you know his real name but he will act as Corporal Martin Roland, United States Marine Corps."

Loren stared at him.

"Singer's use is strictly limited to JAG and to a smaller part to naval information in general. Her profile isn't flexible enough to deal with the drug branch of Senvealda's organization. Foxhound will get us there - and you're going to give him an opening."

He handed her some sheets of paper. Loren scanned them quickly. All was based on what Naval Intelligence had discovered while trailing Westland: That the Petty Officer obviously wasn't just a mole in JAG but also involved in Senvealda's drug business. The plan itself was rather simple. A transfer to Norfolk, a misbehavior, a trial, a dismissal or a notice, depending on the circumstances. All she had to do was to draw Westland's attention to Foxhound's impressive background, the rest was up to the agent. If he was successful in breaking into Senvealda's organization he'd be given some time to secure his new position and then the Captain in Norfolk and Westland would be taken care of. Loren looked again through the papers.

"What about me?"

"We need you to tie up loose ends and to make sure that Westland's connections will be cut a hundred percent. After an appropriate time we'll get you out."

Loren felt a growing sense of disaster. "How long?"

"All in all? About half a year."

Loren exhaled slowly. Six more months. So a mission supposed to run less than a year would last almost two. If that was enough. She looked outside. Richard. What would he say?

"You're asking a lot."

"No, Loren." She turned her head and met his steady gaze. "I'm not asking."

For a very long time they just looked at each other. In the end it was Loren who broke the contact. She smiled unhappy because of the irony.

"Sorry, my mistake." The bitterness was evident in her voice. Still she felt Webb's eyes on her. But again he was giving her no direct response.

"You're our expert in military law at the moment. I want you to check every detail concerning the Navy. I certainly don't want Foxhound sentenced to some years of hard labor in Leavenworth. If you were his defense it would be fortunate - but we'll deal with what we get."

Loren swallowed hard. It took her some effort but somehow she managed to focus on the task at hand. Pushing any feelings deep down, she flipped through the papers again.

"I must do some research, find some precedents. Insulting an officer sounds good at the moment especially if happened repeatedly... But I want to check the possibilities."

"That's in your hands. Contact me as soon as you've got something. Oh, and by the way: For Foxhound you're Naval Intelligence."

Loren's head snapped upwards. "Excuse me?"

"He's FBI. We don't need to complicate things more than necessary."

"FBI?!" echoed Loren in disbelief. "Is there any intelligence service that does actually not know about this operation? How did the FBI get a piece of this cake anyway?"

"Admiral Chegwidden's car and Naval Intelligence's big heart." Webb's reply was absolutely dry. Loren groaned.

"Great. More favors," she muttered. "Can't you offer something else?"

Webb considered her silently. "They're very interested in Senvealda's business contacts in the States. And right at the moment I'm a little short of favors."

Loren just snorted, feeling anger boiling inside. She knew he had had some trouble because of the Drax-affair although the fallout in the press had been rather decent. Still ... for Rabb and his brother he had favors left - but not for her. Meanwhile Webb had opened the door and climbed out of her car. Before he slammed the door shut he bent back into the car once more.

"We all have a price to pay, Loren."

"To speak freely - it's a darn high price for me," she replied harshly.

"There are higher prices than that."

This time Loren didn't answer. She refused to look at him.

"If he really loves you, he'll wait."

Loren turned her head in surprise but he was already on his way to his car.


	8. Observations

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episode: Lifeline

* * *

**- Admiral Chegwidden's house**

Colonel Mackenzie moved her fingers just a tiny bit and they brushed almost imperceptibly against Commander Rabb's. If Rabb was answering the gesture it wasn't visible.

Loren stopped her half-hearted clapping for Harriet Sims and looked into her drink. Oh-oh, there they were going again. Was she really the only one who had noticed all these long, longing, obvious, silent glances and little gestures over the past months? Yes, it was her job to look closer but - had really no one else noticed? Unbelievable!

Well, maybe everybody at JAG considered them too much as friends - and had chosen to ignore them. As they had chosen to ignore this long and, at least for two people in the room, embarrassing absence of the said couple until a few minutes ago. Renee Peterson's and Mic Brumby's thoughts had been written pretty well all over their faces. These two really had to be rather stupid or entirely in love - both things known to make you blind to reality.

Loren snorted a little and took a sip of her champagne. God only knew how this was supposed to end. She couldn't help it but suddenly a little vision popped into her head...

Brumby and Mackenzie in front of the altar, the priest asking the dangerous question ending with '... shall step forward or be silent forever...', silence then a cry - everybody turns in shock, watching Rabb rushing forward through the aisle...

Loren glared into her glass. Well, considering the characters of the people involved that scenario was highly unlikely. Most probably the wedding would take place as planned with a happy groom and a less happy bride, a happy girl-friend and a less happy but silent Navy-Commander. Time to get some cake.

She got successfully rid of her empty glass and pushed into the crowd around the cake. She didn't know if she should despise or pity Rabb and Mackenzie. Two adult people shouldn't behave so ... so ... juvenile! On the other hand - didn't she know best that sometimes circumstances were all against doing the right thing? That you could become trapped in a situation with suddenly no way out any more?

Standing alone in a corner she attacked her piece of cake violently with the spoon. No, she really had no right to play judge. She was asking so much of Richard and he was so willingly trying to understand, to accept. Sometimes she was hurting just from the thought of his arm around her shoulder, his whisper in her ear... God, how she hoped he would wait just a little bit longer. A little bit was all that was necessary.

Her eyes swept around Admiral Chegwidden's living-room. Almost all the JAG staff was gathered here but it was one missing person that had her interest. Westland certainly wasn't in party spirit these days. Not after the Norfolk-Captain had been arrested the day before yesterday. It was a calculated risk but knowing where and what to search for Naval Intelligence had been able to dig up enough dirt to arrest the man without jeopardizing her cover.

Loren shoved some cake into her mouth and chewed without tasting it. Everything had gone so amazingly ... smooth. All right there had been difficulties and improvisation and sleepless nights... Especially during this rocking and shacking head over heels operation in the Persian Gulf. Some days Webb had darted in and out of JAG headquarters at head-spinning pace, trying desperately to get the job done without compromising everything and everyone including her. Leading a sensitive covert operation against terrorists, fully aware that any move could be sold out because of an innocent remark of those unaware of the leak... And with Foxhound around at JAG just at that time too... Even in retrospect she started sweating.

But well, who knew, maybe the turmoil had been good for something in the end. That way Rabb and Mackenzie hadn't been around and she had actually gotten Foxhound's case with Imes as prosecutor. The rest - getting him kicked out of the Navy and at the same time introducing him to Westland - had been easy.

Loren swallowed another piece of cake. She had actually liked working with Foxhound. Martin was fun in briefings and besides that he had a fantastic intuition, was a class actor and a professional through and through without being cynical. And it looked like she owed him big time. He had made such good progress that Webb had finally announced it was time to pull the plug.

The Captain in Norfolk had been the first step. In a few weeks it would be Westland's turn and after that - she was going home. Home. Home to Richard, her family, her friends... And she wouldn't miss JAG one bit. Where everyone was acting more or less weird. She still tried to figure out Chegwidden's reaction to seeing her in a dress and with her hair down. Her outfit hadn't been that different from the Surface Warfare Ball, why had he been so surprised? Probably a special Singer-effect.

Singer. She she wouldn't miss either. No definitely not! She was tired of being the arrogant Rabb-hunting bitch, tired of being ignored, misunderstood and treated ... like she deserved to be treated because of her behavior. But even knowing that it hurt sometimes.

* * *

Episode: Adrift 1+2, New Gun in Town

* * *

**- JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia**

"If you like to talk about it, Ma'am, I'm here for you!" Loren called at Mackenzie's retreating back. She more felt than saw Westland sneaking up to her side.

"Good morning, Ma'am. It looks like you're on quite friendly terms with the Colonel at the moment. What was this about?"

Loren gave him a cold once-over. "That's none of your business." She turned away and spoke over her shoulder. "And for the rest: It can only be helpful to my career to be on good terms with the top female lawyer of JAG. You have to look after yourself."

She felt his gaze right between her shoulder blades as she walked away. Following the plan she had cooled down the contact after the arrest of the Norfolk-Captain. He had been Singer's backdoor to a career improvement and with him gone she would - due to her character - step back until she was offered something new. And that was exactly the idea. If there was another name Westland had kept from her all the time - now was the moment to bring it up. Hopefully there would be nothing. It would only prolong the mission. But until now Westland hadn't made a move. They needed the clearance. So all she could do was keeping up the pressure - even if it meant to turn the knife in Sarah Mackenzie's wounded heart.

Loren sighed softly. She wondered who of them had ended it. Her bet was Brumby. The man had had the patience of an angel but after all that had happened? Maybe things would have been different if Rabb had died but his famous luck had saved him one more time. Oh, she was glad he'd survived because JAG would have been a strange place without him being around. She didn't like the man that much but that didn't mean she wished him dead. She was also sure that Brumby too didn't want him dead but he had no reason for friendly feelings either. Seeing your fiancée grieving over another man like Mackenzie had done... It had to be an eye-opening experience. If it had been the final straw or something else had happened ... she'd probably never know.

But for her it wasn't a big surprise that the wedding was off permanently. She had known there wouldn't be one right after word of Commander Rabb's crash had reached the people at the rehearsal dinner. She had known it the instant she had talked to Mackenzie.

She pinched the bridge of her nose for a second. Well, there she had really put her foot in her mouth, hadn't she? It would be nice to think first and talk afterwards in the future and not the other way round! She had truly intended to give the woman some reassuring words - Mackenzie had really looked crushed by the news. And before she had been able to stop herself she had said that fatal sentence about having a good reason for coming back because now he had someone waiting for him.

God - Mackenzie had looked like she had stabbed her.

Secrets. Secrets and lies. Damn it, the complicated attraction between Rabb and Mackenzie had been so obvious to her, for a second she had simply forgotten that it wasn't the same for the rest. That it especially wasn't supposed to be so obvious for the rest. Talking like that to a woman at her rehearsal dinner. What was more - Singer talking like that to a woman at her rehearsal dinner? Ouch.

Just a heartbeat she had considered telling Mackenzie the truth. That she had seen the interaction, that she had figured out what was going on. Maybe even telling her to come along and straighten things out no matter how the evening was going to end. But something like that from a person like Singer?! Ouch!

So she had rescued herself into looking meaningfully at Renee Peterson ... and hurting Mackenzie even more. OUCH! Could please somebody kick her? Even if the woman had deserved it a tiny bit for playing around with the feelings of other people...

Loren looked up as Colonel Mackenzie emerged from Admiral Chegwidden's office. She stood a little too far away to hear every word of her conversation with Gunnery Sergeant Galindez but enough to draw her own conclusions. So the Colonel was running away, no matter what she was telling herself. Coincidence - one day before Rabb was due to return to work? Who was fool enough to believe that?

Shaking her head Loren turned on her heels and headed for the kitchen and a cup of coffee. She had somewhat hoped that now, with the Commander safe and sound, these two would grow up and fix things between them one way or the other. Maybe that had been expecting too much. The big question was much how longer Renee Peterson would be willing to deal with this situation.


	9. Circumstances

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episode: Guilt

* * *

**- JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia**

Leaving the ladies' room and checking her watch Loren quickened her steps. The recess would be over in a few minutes and she didn't intend to be late. Her mind was already playing with the different possibilities of questioning Harriet Sims. The Lieutenant had been a good witness for the prosecution and turning her testimony wouldn't be easy.

"Ma'am? Lieutenant Singer!"

Loren looked up and around. "Petty Officer Westland. I don't have time now."

"I'm sure you'd be interested in what I have to say, Ma'am." And something in Westland's expression made Loren stop dead in her tracks. All alarm bells went off in her head. She narrowed her eyes.

"Would I?"

"Certainly, Ma'am." Westland moved backwards and indicated her with his body language to follow. Loren hesitated for a split second then stepped up to him. The Petty Officer seemed so ... confident. More than he had in the last couple of weeks. A shiver ran down her spine but she kept her face perfectly calm. Tilting her head a bit she waited for him to continue.

"You've expressed some concerns about your career since our friend in Norfolk has ... gotten himself into trouble." Westland was watching her closely. She didn't answer. "I figured you'd be relieved that your prospects may be even better now."

Loren suppressed the urgent need to swallow hard and cleared her throat. Nevertheless her voice sounded slightly strangled. "How so?"

She got a meaningful smirk. "Let's just say: You're not the only one dissatisfied with the Navy's promotion boards. But you can help one another."

"That doesn't give me much," she bluffed despite the bad taste in her mouth, "Last time you told me just the same and where did it get me? Nowhere."

"This time is different."

"Oh, really? Why?"

Westland's smirk grew. "You'll see."

He started to turn away. A wave of panic washed over Loren. She reached out and grabbed his arm, going into his face.

"You think that's enough?" She kept her voice a low hiss. "I've stuck my neck out for you and your friends remember? Whoever they may be. You give me something now or we're through - understood?!"

Westland looked her straight in the eye. Still this disturbing smirk was spread over his face. "High up, Singer."

She stared. He picked her hand off his arm. "Really high up. You'll make Lieutenant Commander in no time."

She tried to think but her mind had gone blank. "Wait, what do you mean? You want to tell me you've got connections into the Pentagon?"

"Lieutenant!" Commander Rabb's voice cut in. Startled she looked over her shoulder and saw him standing at the courtroom door.

"Don't keep the Commander waiting," Westland suggested grinning. Again he started turning away and again Loren grabbed his arm.

"Just a second! I'm not saying I'm interested but let's talk about it during lunch break!"

"Singer!" Loren waved vaguely to keep Rabb at bay.

Westland chuckled. He obviously enjoyed the situation. "Sorry, but I'm off for the rest of the day. You'll have to wait until tomorrow."

"But-"

Rabb's voice, becoming increasingly angry, interrupted her once more. "Lieutenant!"

"See you tomorrow, Ma'am."

Loren watched helplessly as he strolled down the corridor. Reluctantly she took a few steps towards the courtroom. A million thoughts tumbled through her head. No one had expected anything like that. On the contrary, just a few days ago they had decided that Westland was of no use any more. The FBI had trailed every move he'd made over the last months in order to find the best possibility to nail him. Treachery was no option - not without losing Singer at the same time and she was needed to tie loose ends. So drugs it had to be. Ironically that wasn't easy without catching Foxhound accidentally in the same trap. But it seemed they had figured out a way. She didn't know when exactly it was supposed to happen - but Webb had prepared her that it would be within the next days. Again she felt panic welling up in her.

'Think, Loren, think!' She clenched her fists. 'I have to contact Webb! I have to tell him! But how? How?!'

"Lieutenant Singer, do you need an extra invitation?!" Rabb's sarcastic voice disturbed her thoughts. She murmured an excuse, stepped into the courtroom.

She had to get out of here. What if it was planned for today? Had Westland taken his leave spontaneously or had it been know beforehand? Her eyes darted back and forth. A simple I've got to go to the ladies' room wouldn't do. Playing sick? No, Westland would learn of the incident and maybe draw some unfortunate conclusions. Another recess, she needed another recess! But they had just had one for Lieutenant Sims so it was very unlikely the judge would announce another till noon. What if it was too late then? Loren felt her fingernails dig into her flesh. Could she provoke a recess? The only ones to ask for it where first chair of prosecution and defense and neither Turner nor Rabb had an interest in doing so...

'Damn it, Loren! THINK!'

And suddenly she knew a possibility.

* * *

Loren darted out of Commander Rabb's office, a dangerous expression on her face. Luckily Rabb had denied her permission to speak freely for she'd have had some well chosen words ready to slap them into his face. Like Don't hide behind this case - if you're so concerned about it why have you been such a coward and haven't questioned Lieutenant Sims yourself in the first place? or You've always used me as the bully in cross-examination and kept your hands clean - what the heck did you expect? maybe even Why did it take you so DARN long to stop me?!. She couldn't believe to what lengths she had been forced to go before they'd stopped her. She couldn't believe to what lengths she had been willing to go.

'It was necessary. Necessary! It was the only way.'

But in her head she heard her own voice confronting Harriet Sims again with the death of her baby, pushing her mercilessly, tearing her apart...

'It was necessary!' she screamed at herself. She snatched up her cell phone.

'How will I ever be able to live with myself after that?'

Loren stormed towards the next conference room. There was no time. Not now. She had to keep going. She had to do her job. Some prices were higher. She had Webb's number punched in before the door was completely shut.

'Come on, come on, pick up the damn phone!' The ringing seemed to go on forever.

"Webb."

"Firefighter. Mister Webb-"

"I'll call back." Loren heard voices in the background.

"It's important!"

"I'll call back," Webb repeated and hung up on her. Loren stamped her foot in frustration.

She paced nervously up and down, glancing at her watch. The minutes seemed to race past. Precious seconds ticked by. The time of her hard achieved recess was running out fast. She closed her eyes, willing Webb to call, to call now... Her cell rang.

"Yes?!"

"Is there Miss-"

"Yes - firefighter - I'm here," Loren cut him short, violating all procedures for contact at one stroke. "Listen, Westland's dropped a bombshell: He practically promised me a promotion to Lieutenant Commander and he was very, very confident. He said they've got now somebody high up - really high up."

"What?! When?!" For the first time she heard Webb actually scream in the phone.

"About an hour ago. I was stuck in court, it was impossible to get out without blowing my cover. Webb, Westland is on leave for the rest of the day, I have no possibility to find out more! But the way he chose his words, emphasizing the benefits to my - Singer's career... I guess it's someone in the Pentagon, maybe even in the SecNav's own staff!"

The last thing she heard, just before Webb hang up on her the second time, was a rude curse.

* * *

**- Parking lot of JAG Headquarters**

Were no news good news in this case or not? Loren sighed deeply and unlocked her car. What a day. This trial, Harriet Sims, Commander Rabb - and Colonel Mackenzie and Gunnery Sergeant Galindez missing. Oh, not to forget Bud Roberts' dirty looks. Sure enough she had lost any credit she had gotten for their deal concerning the Master Chief who had enjoyed cursing too much. The thought brought a brief smile to her lips. But atmosphere at JAG was going to be rather chilly for a while. Well, it wasn't a popularity contest, now was it?

She reached for the ignition as her cell phone rang. Her hand grabbed it in a flash.

"Yes?"

"Is there Miss F. R. Maine?" Webb's voice.

"Firefighter," answered Loren immediately, indicating that she was able to speak freely. Then she held her breath.

"We've got problems. Meet me at the usual point in an hour from now on."

The air left her lungs in a rush. So it had been the day. And it looked like Webb hadn't been able to stop the hit in time.

"What did happen?"

She didn't expect Webb to answer and first there was silence but then she heard him sigh.

"Foxhound informed us of a meeting. A nice little tactical discussion how to increase the amount of drugs sold to Navy personnel - that's why Westland participated. A perfect opportunity to arrest him but they screwed up. It ended in a shoot-out." Webb paused and sighed again. "Westland is dead."

Loren closed her eyes. Dead. And all his knowledge had died with him. 'If I had only been a little bit faster. If I had only thrown caution to the wind and called Webb earlier.'

"I called as fast as I could," she whispered defeated. "I really..."

"No one is blaming you, Loren. If anyone I'm blaming myself. There was a lot of bad luck in here. Ill timing, phones turned off, the necessary people not available, a fire alarm-"

"Excuse me?"

"Don't ask. Anyway we can't change what has happened. See you in an hour."

"I'll be there." Loren ended the call and rested her arms on the steering wheel. Her brain refused to accept in full the consequences of the day but one thing was crystal clear: There was another leak, probably more dangerous than Westland had ever been. And they had to figure out a way to plug it. Fast.


	10. Interlude

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episode: Redemption

* * *

**- JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia**

Well, sometimes she had really no problems getting on Chegwidden's wrong side. Loren shot one last glance at the little girl and walked away. She wondered a bit what her mother wanted at JAG. Anything that had to do with the child? She shrugged mentally. There were enough possible reasons, too many for guessing. But because of the child it was certain that the Roberts were more than eager to help. She didn't dislike children by definition but why make such a fuss about each and any of them? Hey, Richard and she had talked about having some and it was a somewhat exiting thought but wanting children didn't necessarily mean patting any little head that came across, did it? She still remembered very lively how much she had hated barely known adults fussing over her!

"Are you finished here? I need the photocopier."

"Yes, Ma'am. Of course Ma'am." The addressed Petty Officer made a hasty retreat.

Loren shoved her sheet inside and suppressed a sigh. Westland's sudden death had had surprisingly little effect on life at JAG. Well, it had helped that the main JAG officers had been occupied with their own problems at that time. Mackenzie with her second trip to Indonesia and Rabb with ... whatever classified operation he had poked his nose into. Loren's lips twitched as she remembered Webb storming past her on one occasion with visibly fuming nostrils ... and later Rabb with very dark clouds on his face. Her bet would be a stalemate this time. These two men really had a unique kind of relationship.

Anyway, when the Police had informed Admiral Chegwidden of Petty Officer Westland's death, there had been quite some shocked faces and talking but as it was said so nicely: Life went on. Of course the way it had been accurately swept under the carpet had played a major role in that. There had been a seemingly proper investigation, furrowed eyebrows because of the circumstances the Petty Officer had died in and finally the hesitant announcement of a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Things like that just happened. The body had been sent home to his grieving family who would never know what their son and brother had done. And it was a good guess that Senvealda too was very pleased with the outcome. So everything was wrapped up nicely - except for those who knew better.

Loren grimaced a little. Since Westland's death she had order to lie low. There was a tiny chance that someone of Senvealda's organization would approach her again - but only a very tiny. Someone in the Pentagon had far better access to things of interest than Singer could ever provide. Why should they take the risk? No, more likely they intended dropping Singer without a second thought. Well, probably after a second thought.

She extracted her copies and returned into the bullpen. It would have been helpful if Westland had ever introduced her to any other contact ... but unfortunately Senvealda's organization was on the same level with any intelligence service in the point of security. This made it so difficult to damage it seriously: Many short single chains and very few connections between them - you got a hand on one chain and they cut the connections, leaving you with nothing else to work with. Frustrating.

* * *

**- A forest, somewhere in Virginia**

"And your friend can really help us?" Lieutenant Isabel Maat held her daughter Katelyn closer to her. Loren's eyes left the road for a moment to smile reassuringly.

"Don't worry. He likes playing a gruff old man but he's got a heart of gold." '- I hope,' she added silently. Personally, she wasn't that sure of his reaction but he was the only one she could turn to. Again she glanced at the little girl and gripped the steering wheel tighter. Her instinct was telling her she was doing the right thing. She wouldn't allow it to happen again.

The red convertible took the last turn and rolled across the unpaved parking lot, coming to a stop next to Webb's car. Of course he was already here, she had made the phone call urgent enough and he had had a good head start before she had even walked out of the base with Maat and her daughter. She saw him turn his head and the frown on his face as he noticed she wasn't alone. He opened his door.

"Wait here." Loren took a calming breath and got out herself. She met Webb halfway around his car.

"Loren. What's the matter? And who's that?" Underlying anger colored his voice.

She gulped. "That's... That's Lieutenant Maat and her daughter Katelyn. They need help."

In his usual uncommunicative way he waited for her to continue. His unwavering gaze made her even more nervous. This was going to be hard.

"Look, Lieutenant Maat... Katelyn is... Oh, darn it, Lieutenant Maat's husband is physically abusing the child. He broke her arm and that wasn't the first time he had laid hand on her. They are separated and Colonel Mackenzie tried to get the mother single custody but the guy is lawyer himself. They lost and now Katelyn is supposed to be with him the next weekend. Anything might happen-"

Loren stopped in mid-sentence as Webb grabbed her elbow in a dead grip. He practically dragged her across the parking lot towards the first trees.

"You're telling me she's got nothing to do with our operation?" he hissed fuming, "And you've brought her here?!"

"She doesn't know who you are or what we do. I've told her you work in a bank and -"

"You've jeopardized the whole mission!"

"Mister Webb, I know you're angry but you must help them! I was able to get them off the base but I don't know what to do next. You've got contacts-"

"Are you crazy? Let the law take care of it!"

"That failed once! I couldn't stand aside and watch the guy possibly kill the girl!"

"I'm sure Mac is already figuring out how to appeal best! This is none of our business!"

"None of our business? None of our business?! That's always the problem: It's none of our business!"

"Loren, you have a specific task at JAG -"

"I've seen how that works! Never again! We had a case like that in Chicago!"

"- and that doesn't include messing around with -"

"Oh, the man sold himself pretty good and the judge awarded joint custody -"

"- illegal actions like -"

"- and everybody thought he has been warned, even if he had done it once he will not do it again -"

"- helping a mother kidnap her daughter -"

"- even the mother didn't believe he would really harm his own child and -"

"- and I will not -"

"- and the next day the girl was dead! Have you ever seen what can happen to a little child falling down a flight of stairs?!"

"Loren, this is not -"

"Do you know how many bones can be broken in such a tiny body?! Do you know what it looks like in a photograph?!"

"Loren, I know that -"

"Oh, no, he didn't touch her! She was so afraid she didn't see where she was running! Running away from her daddy!"

"Loren!"

"And all that because everybody had said let the others take care of it INSTEAD OF DOING SOMETHING -"

"LO-REN!" barked Webb and she stopped. They stared at each other, both panting and out of breath.

"I've got your point," Webb added finally much calmer. Loren fought back tears.

"I can't let it happen again," she stated simply. "I just can't."

Webb rubbed his face and started pacing. Loren watched fearfully. She tried to get her emotions under control again.

"I can't believe this!" Webb muttered under his breath.

Loren closed her eyes then forced herself to look at him again. "You - you won't send them back?"

Webb paced some more. "You've put me in an impossible position!"

Loren followed him with her eyes, despair washing over her. Webb caught a glimpse at her face and threw his hands up.

"NO! Damn it." He sighed. "The damage has already been done."

He pinched the bridge of his nose then reached for his cell. "I've got to make some phone calls." He started punching in the first number, paused and glared at her. "What are you waiting for?!"

Loren jumped backwards and fled to the cars. Isabel Maat saw her and climbed out, fear in her eyes.

"Lieutenant? What - what will happen now?"

Loren forced a smile. "It's all right. Really. He's making some arrangements and then you'll be out of here."

Lieutenant Maat glanced unsure at Webb, talking on the phone. Obviously she had heard the shouting; it had probably been hard to miss. "Your - your friend seems to be very upset."

"That's just his usual habit," lied Loren uneasily, "Don't worry, everything will be all right."

The women waited in uncomfortable silence until Webb walked up to them. He seemed perfectly calm, he even smiled rather gently.

"Mrs. Maat, excuse me, Lieutenant Maat, I've arranged something with some friends. Would you please get into my car?"

"I -," Isabel Maat looked from Katelyn to Loren and back to Webb, "I don't want to cause you any trouble, Mister... Uh, I - I really..."

"Lieutenant, you're welcome. You and your daughter. Now shall we?" He opened the door for her.

Lieutenant Maat hesitated again for a second then got in. "I - I don't know how to thank you, Sir. Ma'am. I know you can get into a lot of trouble..."

Webb actually patted her shoulder then reached out and touched Katelyn's hair. "Again: You are welcome."

Loren smiled at the little girl and her mother. Webb closed the door and stepped past it on his way around the car. As his back was to the Lieutenant he reached out in a swift motion, grabbed Loren's arm and jerked her towards him. His voice wasn't more than a low growl.

"You'll ever do this again and I'll cut you off at the knees!"

Loren stared into his furious eyes just inches in front of hers and barely managed a nod. Frozen in place she watched him walk around the car and get in. She followed them with her eyes until they had disappeared between the trees. Then she fell backwards against her car, shaking.


	11. Coincidences

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episode: JAG-A-Thon

* * *

**- JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia, the day before the race**

Loren turned her back to the enraged Lieutenant Sims and rolled her eyes. Be less alone? Heaven's, Webb would skin her alive if she even tried to dance out of the line at the moment! No, no, she would stick safely to Singer's profile for the time being and to hell with all bruises she'd cause. An annoyed JAG staff she could deal with a thousand times, an annoyed Deputy Director Webb was something completely different.

Besides, with very few exceptions her betting pool on the race had been a great success. It looked like Sims and her high moral standards stood alone here - not really a surprise considering the natural and sometimes rather extreme competition between military officers. Well, most of them were in for a big shock. No one at JAG knew that she was a well trained runner, out on the track four sometimes five days a week. Although she appreciated the physical effects on her body it was more a way to relax, clear her head and get her world back in order whenever it was needed. And it had been needed a lot since this mission had started! So her bet on the fifth place wasn't as overreaching as everybody was thinking, even without the benefit of a three minute head start as the other females thanks to her big mouth.

Mentally shrugging Loren glanced at her watch. Two more hours and she'd be out of here for the rest of the day. Quickly she calculated how long it would take to get home, change into civvies and maybe take a shower. If she hurried it shouldn't be a problem to reach Philadelphia in time for Heather's party.

She grimaced a little. Philadelphia was a bit too close to feel comfortable but there were things she simply couldn't do - like missing Heather's big day. They had been best friends for almost all their life and although contact had faded since high school and they both knew the precious intimacy of these days was over they still kept in touch via phone or e- mail. Heather had sounded so proud as she had invited her to the celebration of the new Philadelphia-department of her company - of her new Philadelphia-department for she had been promoted to department chief.

Loren rubbed her forehead. She had a life outside this mission and she had a right to have it. No matter how painful it was sometimes. So she would go and bear another evening of lies and half-truths and then go back to Washington to catch some sleep before the race tomorrow.

* * *

**- Philadelphia, the day before the race**

"Excuse me?" Loren's hand with the pen froze in mid-air and she stared at the night guard in disbelief.

The man looked regretfully but repeated: "The elevators are out of order. They're doing something with the electric. I'm sorry."

Loren grimaced and finished signing in. Great, the office where the party took place was on the eighth floor and she was already horribly late. Nodding to the guard she walked to the next stairwell. The door was heavy iron and hard to pull open but she managed and tackled the first steps. She climbed steadily.

The stairwell was surprisingly empty, even considering the rather late time and until between the third and fourth floor she met not a single person. With her thoughts already upstairs she nodded shortly towards the man coming down.

"Where is my daughter?"

The harsh question startled her. Instinctively she paused and looked back over her shoulder not entirely sure she had been addressed. But yes, the man was staring up at her. Now that she was paying attention his face seemed vaguely familiar.

"You work for the Judge Advocate General Department of the Navy. I've seen you there."

And with cold shock she finally recognized him. Maat. Isabel Maat's husband and Katelyn's father. Heaven's, she had signed in with her real name. Recovering quickly she put on a blank expression but Maat's narrowed eyes indicated that some of her emotions had been visible on her face.

"I don't know what you are talking about. I've never seen you in my life." With that she boldly turned and continued upstairs. Her stomach clenched as she heard him follow.

"The guard said a blonde officer has left with them. Where are they?"

"You are mistaken. I'm not who you - ouch!" Loren yelped as she was grabbed by the arm and jerked around. Out of balance she stumbled and missed a step but his grasp prevented her from falling. Pain shot through her twisted shoulder.

"Hey! Who do you think you are?" she pressed through gritted teeth, trying to think.

Maat shook her violently, his eyes bore something scary. "Where are they?!"

"Are you crazy? Let go this instant!" Loren struggled backwards. She wished for a purse or a bag or anything else she could have used as a weapon.

"Katelyn belongs to me!"

His grip on her arm didn't loosen but due to her struggling he was forced to change his footing. Loren kicked out and the next second they fell both. The impact on the steps was breathtaking. Maat's finger opened involuntarily and she pushed and kicked wildly, sending him father down to the next floor. Somehow she scrambled to her feet, ignored the pain in her hip and elbow, leapt up the stairs. Footsteps pounded behind her but she had gained a good head start and a rush of adrenalin and fear did the rest. She flew upwards, taking two steps at a time.

The eighth floor, she had to reach the eighth floor, there were people, there would be Heather. Heather? No, impossible! Her cover! She had to find help somewhere else! But how could she explain this to anyone? She was here as herself and not as Singer! She didn't work for JAG! How much lookalike was believable? And the police! She couldn't risk that someone called the police! Mackenzie was still trying to get Maat for assault on Harriet Sims and no doubt she was going to fight for Isabel Maat to get single custody! Somehow, somewhere she'd find out! She'd ruin everything!

Loren ran. The turmoil in her head allowed no clear thought, the deafening noise of their feet, of their ragged pants added to her confusion. So she simply ran. Gasping. Fighting. Bouncing between the walls. Scared to feel his hand on her ankle any second.

Sixth floor. Seventh. Eighth. Her body was screaming. Ninth. As she passed the tenth she sensed Maat falling behind. But still he followed with manic resolve. Between the eleventh and twelfth she wasn't able to run anymore and changed to long strides, still taking two steps at a time. Her thighs were on fire. Thirteenth. Each step she braced her hands on her knees and supported her weight away from her legs. Her lungs seemed ready to explode while her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. But Maat sounded like he'd have a fit anytime soon. Fourteenth. Fifteenth. Blake clouds were veiling her vision but Maat was almost a floor behind now. Sixteenth. She got hold of the door, stormed into the corridor leading to the offices. Her legs almost gave way beneath her but stumbling forward she managed to regain her footing and even run. Around a corner, around a second one, down the next corridor and into the second stairwell. And she had believed upstairs had been hell. She had had no idea. Until Maat reached the stairwell she was passing the fourteenth floor again. A smile of grim satisfaction tugged at her lips as she heard the sound of a heavy fall and a cry of pain. She clung to the rail even tighter, stumbling and sliding too. Thirteenth. Twelfth. She took the door again, crossed the building in the other direction. Her running wasn't more than a lame jog now. But she knew she was steadily gaining ground. She turned upwards again. Barely more than crawling on hands and knees. Besides her ragged breathing, echoing in the space, was no sound in the stairwell. Stumbling and swaying she made it into the thirteenth floor. Halfway between the two stairs she stopped, fairly hidden in a turn of the corridor.

She tried to listen but the sound of her pounding heart was overwhelming. Bracing her back against the wall she fought for control, greedily sucking air into her tortured lungs. There was no sound except for her pants.

A long time passed. Finally she slid down the wall and slumped over in a still wheezing heap. The silence covered her like a heavy blanket. She shivered in her sweat-soaked clothes. Ten more minutes passed. Her breathing returned to almost normal. Twenty. Nothing. Her arm seemed to weigh a ton as she lifted it to look at her watch. She groaned and dug for her cell phone.

"Hello? Heather, is that you? Listen, I'm sorry, but there has been a delay... Yes... No... No, I'm on my way now, maybe half an hour... Oh? Sure... No, I understand. I'll stop by only a few minutes I'll have to catch the last plane back to Boston anyway... See you... No, I'm the one who has to be sorry... Bye."

She clicked the cell phone off and let her head fall back against the wall, feeling miserable.

* * *

**- Carter Park, Race day**

'Help me? Help me, you little bitch?!' Loren glared furiously at Harriet Sims' back. She stumbled from an unsteady jog to a halt, rested her shaking hands on her knees and tried desperately to catch a full breath. Her lungs burned. Her thighs, her legs were just one big cramp, the pain reached up in her back, her belly, her shoulders and arms. A sob escaped her as she looked up and saw Sims taking the next corner in her stupid golf cart without turning her head.

And for a second she hated her. Hated her with all her heart. Hated her as she had hated Roberts for almost passing her, as she had hated Rabb for his stinging little comments. Hated Mackenzie, Chegwidden and anybody else at JAG, any member of this closed little family, hated them for having a life-

But most of all she hated herself and those tears she couldn't stop from running down her face. Rage washed over her. She wanted to scratch them off, to scratch them out of her eyes for betraying her like that. She wanted to...

She closed her eyes and her head fell down again. How on earth had everything turned such a horrible mess? She didn't know what had been more dreadful: Heather's concerned questions because of her messed up appearance and the wild lie she had told her - or Webb's cold silence on the phone as she had confessed the events of the evening to him this morning. Not that he had needed to say much. Not really.

She ran a sleeve over her face, brushing off tears and sweat. There was no way she could go on with this race. It had been her will that had taken her so far and now it was her will that got her to take a few more steps to the side where she fell on her hands and knees. She wasn't sure if she gasped or sobbed. It wasn't fair. All right, maybe participating in this race had been crazy from the start but she hadn't felt all that bad getting out of bed. Stiff and sore and with already beautifully colored bruises but... Yes, but.

Loren slammed her fist down to the ground. Had she asked that much? Had she really asked that much?! All she had wanted was to prove them wrong just once, just once, in a way that meant no harm to her mission, to anybody. Just once she had wanted to be free of Singer, to be herself, doing what she knew she was good at ... maybe gaining at least a tiny bit of respect from these people who despised her so much. Instead she had made a fool of herself.

Sitting down she groaned as she tried to stretch out her legs, knowing that the pain now was just an introduction to what she'd have to suffer in the evening. And on top of that she felt the beginning of a sore throat, the first sign that she had managed to catch a cold sitting around in wet clothes.

She looked up at the sound of laughter and footsteps coming closer. Lieutenant Roberts jogged slowly by, surrounded by Rabb, Mackenzie and Turner who were encouraging each of his steps. No one even spared a glance in her direction.

Loren pulled her legs to her still heaving chest and buried her face in her knees. It wasn't fair. Damn it, it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair!


	12. Regrouping

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episodes: Dog Robber 2, Answered Prayers

* * *

**- Watergate Complex, Washington D.C., a week before Christmas**

The elevator moved smoothly upwards but wasn't able to lift Loren out of her dark thoughts. Sometimes it really seemed all world had gone crazy. Their plane in China had been just the first step on the way. She snorted. Darn it, yes, as soon as she had heard that Commander Rabb was defending the pilot who had destroyed it she had immediately feared he would use her as the bully again. Well, this time she had been absolutely determined to shoo him away with her behavior. Luckily he had already made up his mind before his return, so there had been just one awkward moment in the bullpen.

And then - surprise, surprise - she had been chosen to sit second chair for the prosecution. Great. One more case in the center of media attention. One more dance around TV cameras including a probing Stuart Dunston. Oh, and of course one more phone call to Richard with instructions. He hadn't complained much. But his little comments about eventually getting used to it and practice makes perfect had been rather stinging.

She rubbed her temple. Of course Richard was tired of waiting. There had been tension between them since Westland's death, not that she held it against him. She couldn't even tell him a guess how much longer she'd be gone because she had no clue herself. But that wasn't all. She didn't even know what exactly had caused their argument some days later. One word had suddenly led to another and in the end he had hung up on her. They hadn't talked since. And that hurt the most.

The elevator opened and she checked the numbers left and right. At least whatever it was between Rabb and Mackenzie seemed to be back on normal terms - well, to the screwy definition of normal in their case. How two adult people could ... but she had been there before. Nevertheless it was still amazing how much their up and down affected the whole office and how unaware they were of it.

She found the right door and knocked. Webb opened immediately and motioned her in. She eyed him nervously. She hadn't seen him quite a while and their telephone conversations had been short and seldom. He had ordered her to stay put, together with a cryptic remark that something had come up and they were checking it out. Well, he probably had his hands full with other things, considering. Now she noticed fine lines of strain in his face and a hardness in his expression that hadn't been so pronounced before.

"The Watergate Complex?" she dared to ask as they sat down at the table.

"Don't like my choice of place?" Webb's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Don't tell me you are superstitious."

"Uhm - no."

Webb continued studying her closely and she couldn't help moving uneasily in her seat.

"You're looking stressed."

She almost replied you too but bit her tongue in time. Instead she shrugged. She should have known it wouldn't work on Webb.

"Any problems?" he inquired.

She dropped her eyes. "Personal ones." She felt his gaze still weighing on her. "Nothing I can't deal with."

He examined her some more but then - to her profound relief - dismissed the subject. Resting his elbows on the table and tapping his fingertips together he came back to business.

"Well, we had quite a change in direction lately. As Foxhound has confirmed Senvealda seemed to have given up his business of dealing with information and weapons."

"What?" Loren exclaimed startled. "But - but - Why?"

"He's smart," stated Webb matter-of-factly. "He knows we'll hunt him down at any cost if we even think he could have connections to any terrorist organization. So he's playing it safe and has settled for drug business for the time being."

Loren tried to comprehend all consequences of this new development. "Well, has he had in the past?"

"As far as we know - no."

"Then..."

"Unfortunately this doesn't alter anything," Webb cut her short. "His source is still there and even if he doesn't use him or her for selling information at the moment he probably still uses the intelligence for his own interests. What is more: Whoever has been willing to betray his country once in important things is very likely willing to do it again. And to who knows whom. We have to plug this leak. We've just gained more time to do it."

Loren pressed her lips together. She couldn't deny the plain and bitter logic in Webb's words. Finally she nodded reluctantly.

"So what are we going to do? Do we have a lead?"

Webb seemed to relax a little bit and opened one of his files, laying named photographs out in front of her. "Basing on Westland's last words to you and using whatever information Foxhound was able to give us, we've narrow down the list of suspects to these officers."

Loren pulled her chair closer to the table and bent forward. She observed three Commanders, a Lieutenant Colonel, a full rank Colonel and a Captain, four men and two women.

"All of them have reasons to be dissatisfied with their current position, have suffered real or imaginary setbacks and work with the kind of critical information Senvealda would have found interesting. The rest you don't have to bother about but this one -," Webb's neat finger tapped on one photo, "- is entirely yours."

Loren considered him instead of the photo. "Excuse me, but... I'm a bit concerned how Senvealda's men could react seeing Singer going after one more of their informants - considering what has happened last time. Wouldn't it arouse suspicion?"

"Westland wouldn't have told you about their new source without permission. Senvealda doesn't know what or how much the Petty Officer has revealed before he died and it fits in Singer's profile to go fishing for benefits on her own. If you get back in touch with his organization - that's even better. Besides, she's predestined to click with this candidate."

"How so?"

"You've got the same enemy: Admiral AJ Chegwidden. He stands in your way up - and he was head of the promotion board that turned him down."

Loren furrowed her eyebrows and picked the picture up. The Navy Commander had hair of a sandy color turning grey, rimless glasses and a somewhat surprised who - me? expression on his face. She noticed the JAG insignia on his uniform. Her eyes wandered to the name written at the bottom of the picture. Theodore Lindsey.

"Strange. I don't think I've ever seen him at JAG headquarters." She pursed her lips. "I'm not sure ... maybe... No, I can't remember."

"He works directly for the SecNav and isn't much around there. But he will be soon. Petty Officer Michael Roberts, Lieutenant Roberts' brother, has applied for the US Naval Academy. Secretary Nelson will order Lindsey to have a look into it, do the interview etc. I'm sure you'll find a way to approach him. If not, you'll probably get a second chance at Christmas Eve. As far as I know there's a standing order to attend church. Do you have a boyfriend at the moment?"

Loren stared in disbelief. Webb returned her look and she made the connection.

"Oh! You mean as Singer." She blushed. "No."

"Well, now you have one. Although you're going to lose him immediately."

"I will?" Loren felt a bit dizzy. Mechanically she took the small jewelry case Webb handed her across the table. She whistled as she saw the beautiful bracelet, what seemed to be diamonds and sapphires sparkled with inner light.

"Present from your supposed boyfriend. Unfortunately he's made two other girls equally happy as you'll find out when you go to a special jeweler - this address - and have them appraised. Don't be shy spreading the story around at JAG. I want Lindsey to know that you are single again - and that another man has considered you worth a diamond bracelet."

"Let's hope there's no jewel expert at the office who wants to check out the stones," Loren joked, playing with the bracelet.

"Wouldn't matter, they are real. So don't lose it, it's government property." She nearly dropped the thing. Webb smiled at her haste to put it back in its case. He handed her a file and got up after a look at his watch.

"Lindsey's. Put it in the safe when you're through with it I've got another appointment."

Loren nodded. While Webb gathered his things and filled his briefcase she tried to concentrate on the file but kept glancing nervously at the jewelry case with the bracelet.

"Ah - Mister Webb?"

"Hmm?"

"How much is it worth?"

"I guess you don't want to know," he replied with a chuckle.

Unfortunately that wasn't very comforting.

* * *

**- Watergate Complex, Washington D.C., early morning Christmas Day**

"Just take the damn thing back!" Loren shoved the jewelry case with the bracelet into Webb's startled hands even before she was completely through the door. He raised his brows at her muttered "... nearly caused me a heart attack!"

"I don't know if I want to hear the story behind this," he commented dryly.

"Me either," answered Loren sincerely. The shock she had gotten in the Robert's bathroom still turned her stomach. Heck, she had thought she had lost it! Or this Petty Officer Coates had stolen it what would have been only a change in degree. Well, she had jumped to the wrong conclusion but could she be blamed for it, considering Coates record?

"Then let's go on to the things I do want to know." Webb tilted his head. "Lindsey?"

Loren ran a hand through her hair, recollecting the last evening. Harriet Sims surprising invitation to the party at the Roberts' apartment had given her the perfect opportunity to tell her little tale; also - in retrospect - she could have chosen her words a bit more diplomatically. And she sure could have done without the uproar because of the bracelet or Lieutenant Roberts' father - what an awful man ... but that wasn't the point of interest for Webb.

"The contact is made. And yes, it was a nice little story to start with. But I think I'll need quite some time to build up a useful level of acquaintance."

"Then take your time."

She sighed and looked away. Time. It was always a matter of time.

"Still trouble with your fiancé?"

Her eyes snapped back to his face. He met her surprise perfectly calm. She sighed again and grimaced then nodded.

"Go and talk to him. After what I have seen he's a reasonable man. He'll understand."

"Because it's Christmas?" Loren smiled at the irony.

Webb smirked; he had clearly gotten the point of her remark. "I've thought more because of the holidays you'll have time to fly over and do it in person. Lindsey will probably spend these days with family and relatives anyway, so there's no need for you to hang around here."

"Oh." Loren thought about that and slowly started smiling. "Oh."

"Well -" Webb was suddenly hiding a big yawn behind his hand. "Then good luck."

"Thank you." Loren hesitated. She had been so engrossed in her own problems that she had missed until now how ... worn out he was looking. "Well ... uh ... if you don't mind me saying that ... you look like you've had a long night."

Webb heaved a sigh and rubbed his back. "I've played Santa Claus. And yes, it was pretty exhausting."

Loren gasped. She tried to picture him in a red suit, a padded belly and a white beard and just the thought of it caused her to chuckle. Webb pretended to look irritated but the corner of his mouth twitched suspiciously.

"Then happy holidays. Or is there anything else?"

"Well," Loren grew serious again, "As a matter of fact ... there is."

He waited with raised brows. Loren squirmed. This was a really sensitive matter to address.

"Well - uh - as you know Colonel Mackenzie has charged Mister Maat with assault on Harriet Sims and I've heard..." She gulped nervously. "I've heard that chances are good that Lieutenant Maat will get single custody for the child, so ... it would be ... maybe good if Lieutenant Maat ... got in touch with her ... uhm ... Colonel Mackenzie...," trailing off she tried to read his expression but failed. Hastily she continued: "I know this will cause trouble but ... they need to settle this ... I'm sure Lieutenant Maat will understand how important secrecy is in this matter... And Christmas would be a perfect opportunity to seek contact again..."

She prepared for an eruption. But - maybe because it was Christmas or just because he was so tired - Webb just sighed.

"It's a pity we can't charge him with assault on you." He rubbed his forehead. "I'll pass it on. Just stay out of any more trouble, will you?"


	13. Changes

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episode: Capital Crime

* * *

**- North of Union Station, Washington D.C.**

Loren turned the collar of her coat up and glanced skywards. So that had been the famous Sergei Zhukov, one and so far only brother of Harmon Rabb junior. Half-brother. She walked down the block and around two corners, carefully watching her surroundings. Reaching Webb's dark car she step up to the passenger's side and got in.

"And?" Webb turned the ignition and pulled out into the traffic.

"He was there. A bored young man, fighting his homesickness with the internet, no suspicious papers lying around and no mirror above the bed."

"Mirror?" Webb shot her a puzzled glance.

"A joke. Mister Zhukov is a funny man. He said I would have made a good KGB agent."

This time the glance was exceedingly longer. Loren thought it recommendable to throw in a diversion.

"You've rescued Zhukov and brought him to the States. Do you really think he would cheat you like that and get involved in a crime as serious as stealing uranium? Not to mention the murder of Commander Aikin."

"I really think somebody could take advantage of his innocence and use him without his knowledge. He has been in the same building with one of our suspects, the observation team was absolutely sure about it. Twice. And as you've noticed correctly he's bored and he's homesick. It would be only natural to turn to other Russians. He may be an expert in surviving in a prisoner's camp but these skills are a little out of place here."

Loren shrugged. "Well, he may have been in the same building twice but this time he definitely didn't deliver the message. Not enough time - impossible to get back to Commander Rabb's apartment. And because the monitored conversation mentioned delivery as usual ... I guess he's off the hook now."

"Good." Webb paused. "You don't have to mention our little visit in your reports."

"I understand." She considered her hands. "But what about the FBI?"

"Don't worry about that. I'll take care of it."

They drove in silence.

Loren looked out of the window. So Webb wanted to keep this under the hat. Who could hold it against him it would have ended his career - and Commander Rabb's - if Zhukov had turned out to be a loose cannon. Just to imagine ... you acted with the best intentions and then have to fear it could blow up into your face... Her mind started to wander.

"Did you know her? Commander Aikin?"

"No."

Silence again.

"So what are we going to do now? Commander Turner and Colonel Mackenzie are investigating in a completely different direction at the moment. Should I give them a hint?"

"No," repeated Webb slowly. "We don't know if Commander Aikin's death is really linked to the uranium. Besides, I like to have them working from a different angle. If they hit a dead end, no damage will be done. If they get the right turn, fine - maybe they'll come up with something we don't know yet. I'll recommend the SecNav to be open to any suggestions. One way or the other: We've got SEALs put on standby in the Aegean Sea to get the uranium back also I'd prefer to know the name of the man in the background first."

Webb parked the car in a quiet street not far from JAG headquarters. Loren unbuckled her seat belt and reached for the door handle.

"Loren... There are two more things we have to talk about."

Loren paused and glanced at him then settled back in her seat. Instead of speaking immediately Webb stared through the windshield. His wrists rested on top of the steering wheel. Seconds ticked by. Finally he bowed his head and considered his lap.

"Due to a change in my position I'm going to be out of the country a lot for the next time being. So maybe it'll be sometimes more difficult than before to reach me." He took a photo out of his breast pocket and handed it to her. "In case a personal meeting is necessary and I can't make it Elisabeth Bonettry will take my place. Her direct number is on the backside if I'm not available at all. But I'm still your first and hopefully most of the time only contact."

Surprised Loren studied the woman's face and memorized the number. She glanced sideways. "A change?"

"The DCI asked me to take the position of Assistant Deputy Director for Operation in Southwest Asia and I accepted."

"Assistant Deputy... You've been demoted?!" Loren blurted out without thinking.

Webb grimaced slightly. "Official reading is that my special knowledge is needed there but no appropriate position has been available."

Loren huffed. "Wow. A demotion masked as a promotion. That's innovative!"

Webb said nothing and avoided her gaze. She tried to get her wild running thoughts back in order. A lot she would have thought possible - that definitely not.

"It's because of Sergei Zhukov, isn't it?" she probed carefully. "Because you've brought him to the States without permission."

"Sergei?" Webb glanced at her with sincere surprise. "Oh, no, Sergei was part of the deal."

Loren blinked several times. Webb looked out of the window again. He tapped the steering wheel.

"Oh, why not," he muttered finally. "I said no when somebody else said yes."

Her voice was very gently. "You were wrong."

Webb rubbed a hand over his mouth and smiled bitterly. "That's a matter of definition. In the big picture we were both wrong."

"Uhm..." Now she was confused. "So what?"

"The other guy is the protégé of two senators and one congressman."

This time she got it. "Oh."

"No, politics," replied Webb dryly.

They sat in silence. It wasn't difficult to piece it together now. Loren knew how brusque Webb was able to be sometimes. So the other guy had felt insulted and called his cavalry and instead of risking burning his fingers the DCI had dropped Webb. Well, obviously Webb had fought back. And even if he had accepted the demotion he had made the most of it - for the benefit of Sergei Zhukov and Harmon Rabb junior ... and maybe other things. No wonder Webb had looked so strained the week before Christmas.

"Do they know?"

"Who? Rabb and Zhukov? Heaven's no!" Webb sounded right out shocked.

Loren just shook her head. She would never understand this man. Time to change the subject.

"You've mentioned two things to talk about."

"Yes, I did." Webb sighed. "Loren, when I told you to go and talk to your fiancé I didn't mean exactly to go and marry him."

Loren felt a silly grin spreading over her face.

"Well, it wasn't planned but ... it just worked out that way."

Oh, talking in person had made such a difference. First neither she nor Richard had known how to start but then they sat down and talked it over, fought a bit and talked again. And if they had learned anything in the last two years than that their love was strong enough to survive it all. Going to the city hall had been spontaneous but somehow also ... inevitable.

Webb cleared his throat and brought her back to reality. He didn't look very happy.

"Don't get me wrong, Loren, but I wished you... I'm not sure it has been a wise decision right now." He held up his hand and stopped her answer. "Let me finish. Working with Westland was one thing. You were higher in rank and because of that mainly directed the course of action. Lindsey ... is something different. He's Commander. When you get his attention he'll make most of the rules. There's nothing you can offer him for his career but all he can do for you. Senior officers who get involved with a junior officer under these circumstances ... usually have a special reason."

Loren's breath caught in her throat. Cold disbelief washed over her. It couldn't be. What he was indicating - it couldn't be.

"I- You- You can't- You can't ask me to-"

"I expect," Webb interrupted her firmly, "you to do whatever needs to be done. But I don't order you to ... do ... it."

She stared into his face. She saw a hint of sadness there. A hint of regret. But most of all she saw hard and cold determination. He meant every word he had said. She looked away. She looked everywhere but in his direction. The roof of the car, the dashboard, the buildings outside. She couldn't stand looking at him. She couldn't.

"Loren I don't say it has to come to that." She closed her eyes at the sound of his voice. "But I want you to be aware of the possibility. And I want you to be prepared for the possibility."

She shook her head, negating his words. Blindly she reached out, pushed the door open and fled from the car. He didn't try to stop her.


	14. Tensions

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episodes: The Mission, Exculpatory Evidence, First Casualty

* * *

**- JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia**

The light moved forward under the cover of the copy machine and Loren watched gloomily. Removing one sheet and inserting another she hit the button again. The sound of the machine seemed very loud in the empty office. Loren couldn't help remembering another night and the conversation she had had with Admiral Chegwidden.

You should get a life. What a cruel joke. Working late was the only thing that prevented her from seeing Lindsey even more often. There she had had a lot of success lately. The beginning had been rather slow but now he was inviting her to dinner more and more often. No doubt he was delighted in her admiration for his position or abilities. Even more delighted in having someone equally interested in gossiping about the JAG staff. The same enemies indeed. And more than that. He was really eager digging up dirt - preferably including proof in print.

The first time he had started in this direction she had felt a cold shiver down her spine and had immediately double-checked with Webb. She still heard the long, hard silence on the line. She still heard the hesitation in his voice as he had ordered her to comply. Well, at least Webb would always be able to tell the SecNav how Lindsey had gotten hand on his evidence even if he turned out not to be the leak.

Loren braced herself against the photocopier and closed her eyes. She had really considered throwing everything back in Webb's face. She had really considered telling him to go and find somebody else for his dirty work and to hell with the consequences. But she hadn't done it. She didn't know why.

Looking up to the ceiling Loren shook her head at herself. Maybe she did. Maybe she had already put too much of her life into this to back out now. Maybe she had already sacrificed too much of her soul. And maybe that was the reason why she was - sometimes - somewhere deep down - almost afraid of herself. Of what she could be willing to do.

It looked like Rabb's brother hadn't been that wrong in his judgment. Maybe she'd have really made a good KGB agent. That reminded her to have a very serious word with Sergei Zhukov about the meaning of keep it a secret. Wow, had Rabb been mad because she had snooped around in his apartment. She still wondered how she had managed to squirm out of his office in one piece. But his rage had been somewhat understandable. She wouldn't like a person like Singer checking out her private things.

Loren pushed herself upright again and slowly extracted her sheets of paper. Again her mind wandered back to the conversation she had had with Chegwidden in front of this very photocopier.

Chegwidden. The Admiral would be surprised to learn that somehow he had been the reason why things had gone so badly out of hand. Or not. Maybe he already knew or at least sensed it. He wasn't stupid and she had come to respect his ability to judge the skills of his officers ... what was part of the problem.

When she had walked into his office for one more of her Singer-shows she had fully expected him to criticize her for her - or better Singer's - character. She had expected him to criticize her overambitious behavior, her aggressiveness, her interaction with co-workers, even her style of working. She had never thought he could criticize her skills as a lawyer.

She wasn't a Rabb or a Mackenzie; she would never claim to be. But - a bad lawyer? True, she always put up a show, made comments suitable for her cover identity but behind all that it was still she who did the work, who planned the best strategy. She had comforted herself that she had at least always managed to do the best for her clients, even in Singer-style. If she had been free of the restrictions of her role she would have done a lot of things different... But what if she was fooling herself? What if her skills were what Chegwidden was obviously thinking? Not good enough?

Loren paused on the way back to her desk and stared blindly at the sheets of paper in her hands. She had been shocked when she had walked out of his office. She had been angry. Maybe, if she hadn't been so angry, she wouldn't have gone after Roberts' client the way she had. If her pride hadn't been so wounded, she wouldn't have been so determined to beat him in court. But, nevertheless, she had played fair. Hard, yes. Too hard, maybe. But fair. She had provided Roberts with any necessary evidence in an appropriate way. And no one - not Rabb, not Mackenzie, not anyone else - could deny her to admit that.

Well, except for Harriet Sims. It looked like the battle lines were finally drawn. Other than her husband, who was simply too good - or too naïve - for this world, she would never forgive Singer for what had happened. No matter how much Roberts had screwed up this time - and he had screwed up sleeping in the courtroom of all things - it would be always and forever Singer's aggressive jealousy that had caused his trouble. And ironically that wouldn't be that far from the truth. Only that it hadn't been jealousy - heaven's, an overseas assignment was the last thing she needed - but hurt and anger.

Loren snorted. It was a bitter sound. Oh, heck, who was she kidding? No one would ever forgive her. She wouldn't allow them to forgive her. She couldn't afford it. The whole affair around Roberts' promotion was way too good an opening to get deeper involved with Lindsey than to throw it away. She was going to use it. She was going to use it to the point of excess. But then she had to play it tough in the office. At any cost.

Funny. She had thought she had already reached the point where she didn't care anymore what these people were thinking of her. And most of the time she managed to convince herself that it was true ... except for evenings like this. When she had to admit that it still hurt. Damn it, yes, it hurt.

* * *

**- Parking lot of JAG Headquarters**

"Loren!"

Loren cursed softly under her breath and walked faster. She knew that voice.

"Loren! Wait!" Stuart Dunston ran up to her side and touched her arm. "Wait."

"What do you want?" She looked very pointedly at his hand until he pulled it back.

"You didn't return my calls."

"Guess why," she mumbled, looking away.

Dunston's eyes pleaded. "Loren, you know these charges are ridiculous. What the heck are Rabb and Mackenzie up to?"

"What does it look like?"

"That's what I'm asking you."

"I can't help you." She started turning away.

"Loren..." Dunston caught her again after a few steps. "Look. My lawyer has said we need counsel in military law and-"

She rounded on him. "You think I stick my neck out for you? Think again!" At the expression on his face she almost yielded but caught herself in time. She glanced around. "Listen, Stuart. I want nothing to do with this. Understood? Chegwidden is covering their back. I can't risk it." - 'Especially not the publicity,' she added silently.

The reporter did nothing to hold her back as she walked away this time. But his hurt eyes were like needles in her back. Sighing she paused. She shouldn't do that. She really shouldn't. She looked over her shoulder.

"Ask for Commander Sturgis Turner. He's kind of neutral."

"Loren..."

"Don't talk to me again. Never ever."

She fled into the building and into the safety of an empty elevator. There she leaned against the wall and shook her head. Oh, darn it. Darn it. That way she had never meant to end this acquaintanceship. But Lindsey would never understand why she should do Dunston a favor under the current circumstances. Singer wouldn't understand it.

Loren sighed. Sometimes it was more difficult than other times. She was in a really unique position: She was a civilian working as a naval officer. She had experienced both worlds first-hand - the good sides, the bad ones and many, many shades of grey. Being a lawyer tended to destroy your illusions very quickly. And she couldn't get rid of the feeling that Rabb and Mackenzie were overreacting in this case.

For them the world was - especially at the moment - divided into those serving their country in the armed forces ... and those who didn't. But it wasn't that easy. To pin the failure on the only civilian just per definition left a bad taste in her mouth. She didn't know if it had been Stuart's fault the operation had gone wrong. Oh, yes, he could be annoying and nosy and sometimes careless ... but anybody made mistakes. Somebody working for JAG should know that best.


	15. Orders

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episode: Port Chicago

* * *

**- JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia**

"Yes?" Loren held the cell phone to her ear.

"Is there Miss F. R. Maine?"

"No, you've got the wrong number. Sorry." Loren disconnected. Bonettry. What the heck -? The woman had never called her before, Webb might be jetting around the globe but he still held the reins of this operation very tightly.

She looked around. The bullpen was as busy as ever, no one was paying any attention to her. Good. Taking some files she headed into one of the conference rooms and shut the door firmly. Then she dialed Bonettry's number from memory.

"Bonettry."

"Firefighter. What's the matter?"

Instead of answering directly the other woman asked a question herself. "You've been assigned to prosecute the renewal of the Port Chicago court marshal?"

Loren frowned. "Yes."

"And Colonel Mackenzie is sitting second chair?"

"Yes," confirmed Loren with a sigh. It looked like she had overplayed her Singer-attitude a bit this time. Too bloodthirsty probably even for Chegwidden's SEAL taste. And now she was having an annoyed Colonel Mackenzie breathing down her neck and observing critically any of her steps. As if the case wasn't difficult enough - she had already wondered how she should be able to work Singer's character into the prosecution without spoiling everything. Doing this in the courtroom was hard enough but now she would have to carry it through even in preparation.

"Good. If Mister McBride chooses to turn down the SecNav's offer make it a full-time job for her."

"Excuse me?!" Loren's voice jumped almost an octave upwards.

"Can you get Chegwidden to take the case away from you and hand it over to Mackenzie?"

Loren opened and shut her mouth a few times without a sound.

"W-what? But why?" she stammered finally.

"Let's just say we need Mackenzie a little bit distracted at the moment. So, how is it? Can you manage?"

"I - I don't know, I mean..." Loren fought for control. "It's not Chegwidden's style of leadership to interfere as long as it's not absolutely necessary." She thought again. "It would take a lot. Heck, Rabb once fired a weapon in the courtroom and all he got was a dressing down - although I'm not Rabb and so probably have a much lower toleration-level."

Bonettry clicked her tongue. "Too bad. Well, try nevertheless, maybe you'll get somewhere. But if you don't ... do you think you can distract her enough to keep her away from her other work?"

"Distract her?"

"Distract her, make her mad, annoy her, tick her off, whatever. If you lose the case to her in the course it's even better. But keep her occupied as much as you can for at least two days."

"But why?"

"That's need to know. Just do it."

"Whoa - stop here!" Anger shot up in her. "Not this way, lady! I'm the one who's supposed to risk her neck and believe me Colonel Mackenzie has quite some teeth to take a bite of me! Besides, Singer is ambitious but definitely not intending to commit professional suicide! And that I would do because the only way to tick Mackenzie off would be to act aggressive, ruthless and sometimes absolutely stupid in court and outside! So either you'll tell me what's going on or I'm going nowhere!"

She listened to an irritated silence.

"All right," Bonettry gave in suddenly, "But remember this is -"

"- classified. Yeah, I know, please spare me!"

Another angry pause. But the agent recovered quickly.

"We know Colonel Mackenzie is assigned to defend a seaman who went temporarily UA in Mexico. But an investigation down there would be highly inappropriate at the moment because she could disturb ... people we don't want to be disturbed. McBride and you will buy us the time we need."

Loren snorted. "You're manipulating evidence? And ask me to assist?"

"Watch your tongue, Firefighter." Bonettry's voice was as cold as ice. "Nobody is manipulating evidence. Those people are by no means connected to Mackenzie's case. But a Marine asking questions would make them nervous. All we need are two more days then they'll be gone."

"Great." Loren rubbed her neck and glared at the ceiling. "You expect me to act like a lunatic."

"If it's necessary."

"Ooh, darn it!" Loren remembered where she was and lowered her voice. "Why don't you just ask her to give it a rest for two days? She's a rational woman! Or let Chegwidden order her to stay put."

"That's not an option."

"Not an option. But blowing my cover is an option! What would you do if I wasn't here?"

"You are, so there's no sense in discussing it."

"What if Chief McBride takes the SecNav's offer? And if he doesn't are you aware how much ill handling of this case could damage the Navy? Does Nelson know about this?"

"According to our sources it's very unlikely McBride will do that. And Secretary Nelson will be informed."

"Oh, will he?!" Loren scoffed disgusted. Well, according to Webb, Nelson had been more than annoyed that one of his once favorite officers had suddenly turned into a suspect. She couldn't imagine him to be happy if she spoiled this case.

"Look, that wasn't my idea!" Bonettry blew up. "And take notice that this is an order! So just do as you've been told!"

Loren hung up on her. She was furious. And she felt used. How dared that woman! Did Webb know about this? She contemplated her cell phone. Should she call him? But what if he did? Oh, darn it! Here she was - supposed to prosecute a man for mutiny and at the same time considering it herself. She made a face at the irony.

She started pacing up and down, glaring at the floor. So they wanted her to tick Mackenzie off? Or even better, to lose the case to her? Well, they had asked for it! Oh, yes, she would tick her off! Wow, would she tick her off! They would be screaming for help the way she would tick her off!

* * *

**- JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia**

Loren shut the door of her new office with an audible thud and enjoyed for a moment her new privacy. Then she sighed. The silence in here was almost worth the new level in her war with Lieutenant Sims. Sitting down she rubbed her tired eyes.

Well, she could truly report: mission accomplished. Colonel Mackenzie was thoroughly mad at her. And on the way she had managed to tick off Chegwidden, Sturgis and probably Rabb too. What a success. Now she wasn't only the arrogant bitch but the stupid one too. She cupped her face in her hands and groaned. Please would somebody shoot her and put her out of her misery?

Man, she still couldn't believe she had nevertheless come near to winning the case! But Sturgis had recovered and changed his tactics. Once or twice during his counter-attack she had really thought Mackenzie would strangle her in the courtroom. And the woman would have been so right. If she had known that the line about shaming the Navy was a direct quote from Commander Lindsey she would have a fit.

Where was the Colonel by the way? She hadn't seen her since they had come out of court. Well, she probably was with Commander Rabb ranting and raving about Singer. And that was something that never ceased to amaze her. This extraordinary friendship between these two was ... beyond any words to describe it. It had survived girl- respectively boyfriends, an engagement, secret signals during this engagement, a break-up, non-speaking terms, being mad at each other terms ... and it still was there. What a gift. One could really be jealous of it.

Loren sighed.


	16. Dealing

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episode: Tribunal

* * *

**- JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia**

"Oh, Theodore," Loren slowly wrapped the cord of her phone around her fingers and rolled her eyes, "I can't tell you how grateful I am for your assistance."

'You really don't know how much,' she added silently, 'I had no idea how many trifles a JAG has to take care of.' She considered the list she had jotted down with Lindsey's help and smiled wryly. The staff would hate her.

"I'm so excited. Finally the Admiral has noticed my value," she purred and grimaced. 'Because he was running short of lawyers.'

"It was about time, Loren, you've deserved it." Lindsey's voice was giving her a headache. "One last piece of advice: It'll be easier for you to coordinate everything if you take Admiral Chegwidden's office for the time being."

"What a wonderful idea, Theodore." - 'He's going to kill me.' - "But is this standard procedure?"

"Oh yes, of course, you're acting JAG."

Thankfully a knock at the door of her office interrupted their pleasant conversation.

"Theodore, I've got to go. I'll keep you updated. Bye."

"Bye, Loren. Hey -"

She quickly disconnected before he could invite her to dinner. Almost slamming the receiver down, she called out "Yes!" to the door.

Tiner poked his head in. "Lieutenant, there's a Mister Roland to see you."

"Send him in." Loren got to her feet. Roland? Roland as in -

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant Singer, Ma'am."

- Martin Roland?

'Foxhound??'

Loren noticed she was staring and quickly pulled herself together.

"That'll be all, Tiner, thank you," she dismissed the Petty Officer coolly. "Mister Roland, I'm a little bit surprised to see you."

"I'm sure you are, Ma'am, but -" Foxhound turned his head as Tiner closed the door and stopped. Then he looked back at her. Their eyes met.

Loren swallowed. It was only a year since she had seen him last... How could a person have aged in this rather short period that much? These sharp lines in his face hadn't been there a year ago, neither had the shade of grey in his hair. Even his eyes had changed.

"Martin?" she whispered hesitantly. "What are you doing here?!"

He kept staring at her and finally sighed. "I need a little help, Loren."

Stalling for time Loren motioned him to sit down and took a seat herself. Then their eyes locked again.

"What kind of help?"

"To get four pounds of heroin out of this building."

Loren's jaw dropped.

He laughed out at her expression and suddenly she saw the lively man she had once worked with sparkling in his eyes.

"I knew I'd get you with that line!"

"Ooh, you -" Loren groaned and chuckled at the same time, remembered the open blinds and quickly flipped a pen off her desk so she could bent down and hide her face. Coming up again she glared good-naturedly at him.

"Mean bastard," she muttered.

Foxhound - with his back safely to the door - smirked. Then he grew serious again.

"How are you, Loren?"

She allowed herself a small grimace. "Wheeling and dealing. What about you?"

"The same." His gaze wandered out of the window. "Things are a little bit difficult at the moment."

She waited patiently until he looked back at her. He smiled again but not very happy.

"Truth to be told: I'm in trouble. I think I've screwed up."

Alarmed Loren sat upright. "Is your cover blown?"

"No but one of - well, them is giving me a hard time. My own fault, I couldn't keep my big mouth shut and he has taken it personal. I've blocked him so far but he keeps challenging me. And that's why I'm here."

She encouraged him with a nod to go on.

"Loren, don't freak out but there are really four pounds of heroin hidden within JAG headquarters. And I'm supposed to smuggle it out. Because I have been a Marine-," he formed quotation marks with his fingers, "- and this is the Judge Advocate General Department of the Navy. Fate."

"How should- Did you say hidden?" Loren suddenly started sweating. Should there be another rotten apple in here - and she had known nothing of it?

"By Westland."

"Westland?!" Loren almost screamed. "Impossible! He was a drug dealer and a mole but he was damn smart. He would never have taken such a risk."

"As far as I know it was improvisation. I'm not familiar with all details. It happened shortly before he - well."

She shook her head. "And they never tried to get the stuff back?"

"Four pounds sound much but for an organization as big as Senvealda's it isn't more than a tip."

"If they didn't care for so long then why do now?"

He scratched his chin. "It's kind of a test of courage. I've told you I'm in trouble."

Loren blew out. At least there wasn't another mole in here. She tried to focus. "You know where it's hidden?"

"It's in the suspended ceiling of a conference room. It shouldn't be a big deal to find it but it would be highly inconvenient if somebody walked in on me the wrong moment."

"Highly inconvenient," acknowledged Loren gloomily. "Do you have something like a plan? Did they tell you about me?"

"About Singer's past encounters with Senvealda's organization? No, not one word. They keep you pretty well under the hat ... or are using me to find out if you have been responsible for Westland's passing away and the bad luck they are experiencing lately. As I've said my cover is still intact. But you have been my lawyer so I've thought it'd look natural to come to you with a fake problem and ask for advice. Even if you got me fired the last time."

"Very funny."

"Isn't it." Foxhound grinned. "Anyway, it has been a reasonable plan to get me into the building and I've thought if we meet again in the evening when the office is empty..." He trailed off because Loren started shaking her head no.

"We would never be safe from the guards. Besides, a lot of people here work long hours. No, it wouldn't work - too risky."

"That's not good."

"No." Loren pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh boy, I'm falling from one crisis into the other at the moment. Sometimes I really feel like a fireman." She opened her eyes again and stared down at the top of her desk.

"What can we do," she muttered to herself. Her gaze swept over the list of Lindsey's helpful tasks and suddenly snapped back to it. A grin started to spread across her face and she quickly covered it with her hand. "Oh, who would have thought? Thanks, Teddy."

"Loren?" Foxhound frowned questioning.

She settled back on her chair and tapped her fingertips together. "I knew my codename would eventually come in handy. How long would you need to take the heroin out of the ceiling?"

He looked even more puzzled. "10-15 minutes maybe..."

"You shall get them." She gave her voice a graver, declamatory sound. "You may not be aware, Mister Roland, that I'm in charge of JAG Administration during Admiral Chegwidden's absence overseas. And in my position as acting JAG I really, honestly and strongly believe that we are unacceptable overdue for a fire drill."

Some seconds his expression didn't change then he flashed a full-scale admiration-grin.

"Miss Loren Singer - pardon me, Lieutenant Singer of course - have you ever been told that you have some extraordinary kind of brain in your pretty head?"

She bit back a smile. "Not lately, so thank you for the compliment." She got up and Foxhound followed. "Now. Have a stop in the men's room on your way out. I'm going to make a little announcement to the staff of the days of hard labor that are to come under my command and then start right away with the fire drill. Hide somewhere until the office is empty. You've got a bag?"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

"Good. You can boast about how lucky you have been to stumble into this in front of your buddies." Loren opened the door and continued on her way out: "I'm really sorry, Mister Roland, but I can't help you in this matter."

"I understand, Ma'am, thank you for your time."

She gave him a slight nod and headed across the bullpen. On her way she happened to pass behind Harriet Sims' back and got a glimpse at the computer screen. Well, well, instant messages with her husband.

"Lieutenant Sims..."

* * *

**- JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia, Admiral Chegwidden's office**

The little Lieutenant was really beginning to get to her. Loren sank even deeper into Chegwidden's chair and rubbed her face. Darn it, sometimes her words stung like needles. But sometimes...

It's what we have inside that makes us a leader.

How pompous. And how true.

Sitting forward Loren dragged the file Sims' had brought in in front of her. She grimaced.

'Unfortunately, my dear Harriet, I have no intention of being a leader. Neither in the Navy nor anywhere else. All I want to be is a happy wife and someday a good mother and if I could get a little satisfaction from my real profession it would be just perfect.'

The irony was striking. It seemed like she had just described Lieutenant Sims' nice little world. A pang of envy coursed through her body.

To distract herself she turned her thoughts to Foxhound. Everything had gone as planned and nobody seemed to have been suspicious that the civilian who had entered the building with empty hands first hadn't turned up outside during the fire drill and then had exited with a big bag. Luck in this case and she had done everything to keep anybody occupied ... but maybe she would hunt down the rules for the guards and make sure they'd learn them by heart in a few days. Not now. Now the memory was too fresh. But maybe towards the end of her acting JAG period.


	17. Breakdown

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episodes: Defending His Honor, In Country

* * *

**- Loren's apartment, Washington D.C., the bathroom**

What a day. Loren filled her cupped hands with water and splashed it on her face. Slowly she dragged her fingers down her cheeks. Blindly she reached for the towel and dabbed her wet skin. What a day. Standing upright she opened her eyes and looked into the mirror. Carefully she dabbed again at the bruise under her left eye.

Who would have thought that sweet harmony-addicted Harriet Sims had such a punch?

Loren took the towel off her face and held it against her elbow, the second sore point caused by her fall. All in all she had been lucky. She hadn't broken her arm as she went down and she had missed the corner of the desk by inches with the back of her head. Almost a miracle, considering the measurements of her office.

She snorted. So the upright Lieutenant had run out of verbal arguments and had turned to the oldest solution of the world: Her fists. Little AJ watch out and don't rouse your mother's fury. Roberts probably knew when to duck in his household.

Throwing the towel to the side she rested her crossed arms on the corner of the sink and bowed her head over the white ceramic. Slowly she rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes.

Oh, all right, she had done her best to provoke her. But nevertheless, who did the little witch think she was? The moral conscience of JAG headquarters? Was it her business how she dealt with Tiner? Sims didn't suffer from his inadequate work as she did lately. It seemed to her as if she always had to ask at least twice for the things she needed. Not that he ever overstepped the line of proper behavior but she could always feel his eyes whenever she turned her back on him. Oh yes, it seemed like the Petty Officer had chosen to pay her back for putting the sorry mess of the Roberts' marriage out into the open.

Ha! There Sims should mind her own business first! She had everything - a loving husband, a healthy son, a place to live in - but nooo that wasn't enough. A house it had to be. A reasonable wish but to buy one behind her husband's back? Ha! And Roberts was not the least better. Oh, no, he couldn't tell his wife screwed-up Petty Officer Coates was his legalman. And what had given Rabb and Mackenzie the right to play judge? They had both known and chosen to lie to both of them - Sims and Roberts. Real friendship. They almost deserved to be missing in the desert and anyway they had been found safe and sound as usual.

No, she had just set some things straight by revealing the little secrets of the happy couple. Who knew? Maybe she had really saved their marriage? Hadn't they managed to work things out? Looked at from that point of view she had done it...

... because she had felt like doing it.

Time stood still. Loren opened her eyes and stared into the sink. There was nothing but her breathing, her heartbeat, suddenly very loud in her ears.

Because she had felt like doing it. And it had felt good. It had felt so good to lash out. To hurt someone. Intentionally. It had felt so good to let someone feel the pain she was bearing all the time. It had felt so good to see Sims' face as she read what she had written to her husband. It had felt so good to see her reactions to his lie. It had even felt good to scare Tiner or the Admiral.

Slowly Loren lifted her face and looked into the mirror. And Singer stared right back at her. She thought she saw her smile.

Her hand shot out on its own and grabbed the first solid thing within her reach - a flowerpot - and slammed it into the face of her personified nightmares. The sound of the impact was deafening. The mirror cracked, fragments of glass and ceramic and substratum rained into the sink, breaking the white surface.

Loren stumbled backwards. And still Singer stared at her out of the rest of the mirror, monstrously crippled by the cracks in the glass. Her hand flew to her mouth - and something snapped.

'No. Nonononononono.'

A sound - not really a sob, not really a whimper - caught in her throat. She turned blindly and ran out of the bathroom, stumbled more, not aware of the pain as her shoulder hit the door frame. She fell twice before she made it to the table in the living room where her legs finally gave way beneath her and she landed hard on her hands and knees. Somehow she crawled the last steps, in tears now, but the sobs strangely disconnected to them, as if the person with the tears in her eyes wasn't the same through whose throat the sobs welled up. Her grabbing fingers found the cell phone but dropped it immediately and she needed both hands to get a hold of it. She trembled so badly, it was almost impossible to find the keys. It was almost impossible to remember the familiar number.

And still there was this sound in her throat. This terrible inarticulate sound. She crawled over to the wall and curled up against it, pressing the cell to her ear with shaking hands. The ringing seemed to go on forever. She ran a hand over her face, dug her fingernails into her skin.

'No. Nonononono.'

There was a crack in the line.

"Webb."

She wanted to speak but no sound came over her lips.

"Hello?" Webb's voice seemed so far away. "Hello!"

"Get me out of here." First it was a barely audible whisper but then it rose to a desperate scream. "Get me out of here I'm losing myself! I'M LOSING MYSELF!"

"W-What? Who's there?"

She didn't listen to Webb's surprised stammer. It was like a dam had broken. Everything spilled over her lips in a wild rambling of unfinished words and sentences, mixed with strangled sobs. What she had done, what she thought she had done, the last days, weeks all tumbled together in incoherent fragments. Pictures, voices- The pain in her chest was beyond anything bearable, the turmoil in her head drove her insane. She clenched her hair in her fist, tugging hard, her body rocking back and forth without knowing it. Her words slurred together the only understandable sentence the blind repetition of "I'm not her, I'm not her, I'm not her" in a wail, a plea, a prayer.

If she had listened she'd have heard the pounding of running steps in a corridor and a startled "Webb?! What's happened? What's wrong? What-?" quickly fading behind. If she had paid attention she'd have heard the harsh demand: "Get out, I need the room. Come on, come on, move it!" and a slamming door. But she was beyond any reason.

"Loren?" Webb sounded breathless, "Loren, is that you? Where are you?"

She wasn't able to listen. She dug her nails into the skin of her head, rambling on and on, pleading, sobbing, shaking - shaking... Her stammer had lost any understandable order now. She hit her head against the wall to stop the pictures spinning around, to stop the world from shattering into pieces. She thought she heard Singer's laugh.

"Stupid cow, get a grip!" Webb screamed through the phone, "You want to kill Foxhound? You want to kill your husband?! Your family?!"

That shocked her to silence like a bucket of cold water thrown into her face. She stared blankly, gasping for air.

"Where are you? Loren! Where are you?!"

She trembled. Her lips were numb but somehow she answered Webb's harsh, demanding question.

"My - my apartment." Her whisper was barely audible.

"Are you alone? Answer me! Are you alone?"

"Yes," she choked out. Her eyes darted helpless around the room without finding a place to settle on.

"Anyone at the door? Is anyone threatening you? Answer me, Loren, NOW!"

"N-no. Nobody is here, I'm - I'm-"

"All right." Webb softened his tone a little. "Then tell me what is wrong. Talk to me, Loren."

She pulled again at her hair. Her body was moving instinctively back and forth, sobs interrupted her answer.

"I - I can't. Please, I - I can't! I can't stand this any longer! I'm not her! I - I don't want to be her! I'm -" Her voice rose with hysteria again. "I'm losing myself! I'm losing myself!! Get me out, please, please, get me out! Just get me out..."

"Loren, stop rambling!" Webb's voice cracked like a whip. "Stop this instant!" He ignored her sobs. "You are not her. Do you hear me? You. Are. Not. Her. I know it's hard but you've got a job to do and-"

"You don't understand!" she screeched into the phone, not bothering what she did to his hearing, "You can't understand! You - you are a MAN! You understand NOTHING!"

She slammed her fist against the wall, despair mixed with rage. She drew in a shuddering breath. A whimper rose in her throat.

"If it's so damn necessary for this country then why do I feel like a slut?!"

She choked and the memory swept over her again. The painful, sickening memory of skin on her skin, of lips on her lips, of Lindsey's body over her own.

'No. No, no, no, no.'

As if the denial would make a difference. It didn't. No, it didn't. It was her fault. Everything was her fault. She hated herself, hated what she had done. Why had she thought she would be able to pull it off? She had been wrong. It had been so wrong. She had been such a fool - and she should have known at the same time. She had played with fire. And it had burnt her. It had burnt her.

"James Bond is such a cheat!" she spat, lashing out blindly at anyone within her reach. "Bedding women all around the globe and giving not a DAMN about their feelings! You don't understand! It's so easy for a man! It's all so easy for a man!"

Webb's answer was like a soft sigh: "I don't know if feeling like a rapist is that much better but ... yes, I guess you're right. It's probably easier for a man."

And something in his depressed words - the honesty, the sadness or maybe the deep, deep regret - got through to her.

It wasn't regret that he had put her in a situation like this. No. He had been there before. He had been there. He knew what it was like and did understand. He had known when he had told her ... to be prepared. The painful knot in her chest twisted one last time ... and burst.

Despair, anger, self-hatred, the knowledge how much pain she had caused the people around her... She drowned in the darkness where once her soul had been. Sobbing she pulled her knees to her chest and pressed her fists against her forehead, tears finally running freely down her face. Her body shook under the violence of her grief.

'Oh, Richard, Richard, what have I done? What have I done to you?'

But more scaring was that she wasn't crying over some kind of physical virginity. No, she was crying over a mental innocence she knew she had lost forever. This time there was no turning back. Never. What had Webb said? When she had been angry because the mission was running longer than expected?

There are higher prices than that ... Now she knew one of them.

Not now, not ever she would be able to tell how much time passed until her sobs slowly faded into a throbbing headache. But it was a long, long time. She simply sat while her ragged breathing slowed down, evened out. She stared at her knees. She felt empty. Exhausted. It was as if any feeling had drained out of her in the flood of tears.

Sniffing she wiped her face with a handkerchief she discovered in her hand. Somehow she had obviously managed to dig it out of her pocket - even if she couldn't remember when. In a tired gesture she brought the cell back to her ear. The line was still open. She listened to the silence. As she finally spoke it was like a desperate plea.

"There is a reason, isn't there? There is a reason for what we do?"

And again the honesty in Webb's answer was almost brutal.

"There has to be," he whispered back. "There has to. But sometimes it's just darn hard to find any."

Loren dropped the handkerchief in her lap and slowly ran her fingers through her hair. She put her head in her hand. They sat in depressed silence. Seconds ticked by, minutes. She stared blindly at the next wall. Idly she wondered what memories were haunting Webb and what had brought them near enough to the surface to confront him during her call. But the thought faded. It was so much easier not to think at all. To think meant to justify her actions. She wasn't ready for that. She simply wasn't. She wasn't ready to admit that all accusations she had thrown at Sims ... or anybody else ... had somehow been directed at herself.

Wherever Webb was a door opened. The voices were muffled and with strange clarity she knew he was covering his cell.

"Webb, we-"

"Not now."

"But we've got message that-"

"I've said: not now." Pause. "Get out."

"I hope you know what you're doing."

The door closed. Silence stretched like a rubber band. Loren felt her tears dry, leaving behind just the salt. Her skin became stiff and numb. Slowly she rubbed a hand over her cheeks and shut her swollen eyes. She felt calmer now. Not better. But calmer. And she couldn't help it but her sense started working again. There were more important things than her. There were always more important things. Always somebody with bigger problems; always... Loren rested her head back against the wall.

"You've got to go," she stated calmly.

"It can wait."

She knew he was lying. She scratched her itching face. The headache was killing her.

"How did you learn to live with ... that? With yourself?"

"I'll tell you as soon as I'll find out."

She wasn't sure if she was snorting or sniffing.

"You've got to go," she repeated.

"Can I leave you alone?"

She heard the hesitation in his voice. The beginning of a smile plucked at the corners of her mouth. He probably was on the other side of the world and was talking of leaving her alone. But why not? The phone had been her lifeline over the past two and a half years ... and it had saved her now. Somehow.

"I will not jeopardize the mission and slit my wrists or anything like that if that is your concern."

"Loren..."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "All right, that was a bad joke." That was an understatement. "I'm just... I don't know how much longer..."

"I can't promise you a timetable, Loren. But I'll think of something."

Loren stared at the ceiling. She was so cold.

"I guess I have to live with that." She sighed. "You know you can be a cruel, cold-hearted bastard?"

"I've been told so," Webb admitted softly.

Silence again. It was almost comfortable - if one was able to forget the circumstances. Loren shifted her aching body.

"Webb?" she started again.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

There was a small chuckle. "For being a cruel, cold-hearted bastard?"

The gentle teasing brought a faint smile to her lips. She sniffed and continued to look at the ceiling then closed her burning eyes again.

"Among other things," she whispered back.

He didn't answer. It was so quiet, she was able to hear his even breathing as she took the cell away from her ear and hang up. Lowering it down to the floor she stared once more at the opposite wall until the throbbing pain in her head and the cold brought her to her feet. For a second the room spun around her and she braced a hand against the wall. Damn it, she needed an aspirin.

After slowly shuffling to the bathroom she paused in the door and tiredly considered the mess in front of her. Then she proceeded reluctantly to the sink. The mirror was destroyed as was the planter. The flowerpot, made of plastic, had survived but some of the roots and one leaf were broken and the substratum was full of splinters.

Loren reached out carefully and freed the plant from the plastic-pot, shaking fragments of glass and ceramic off the roots. A long moment she looked down at it. She wasn't big with plants. She barely kept two or three in this apartment. But Richard had given her this one as a wedding present after they had returned from the city hall. An orchid. With white petals when it was in flower, small pink dots scattered all over them. And when the light was right there was a beautiful silver sparkle visible.

Her pragmatic Richard and his hidden sense of romanticism. She was certain he had known how perfect his choice had been. An orchid was unimpressive most of the time but in blossom ... its beauty was breathtaking. It wanted nothing but light and a steady temperature and once or twice a week a little water. An easily satisfied plant if treated right. As was - or had been - their love.

Loren stared down at the orchid and felt sadness wash over her. Now, shattered and broken, it was an even more perfect synonym than it had been before.

Suddenly she frowned and turned the plant in her hand to get a closer look. Her mouth got dry. That wasn't another root even if it looked like one at first sight. No. Staring at the plant in her hands she realized that - if the orchid survived - it would be flowering again.


	18. Accidents

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episodes: Enemy Below, Critical Condition

* * *

**- Rock Creek Park, Washington D.C.**

There was something comforting in the steady rhythm her feet pounded on the ground. Loren inhaled deeply the fresh morning air. Once more the early exercise was clearing her thoughts for the next day ahead.

It hadn't been easy to get back on track after her mental breakdown. Mental breakdown - what an ugly word ... but unfortunately true. Of course she hadn't had much time to brood over it, considering how fast things had started to develop the following days. The search for Kabir, the long hours in the Pentagon war room...

It had helped to be involved in this group. To play a little role in saving the world. God, that sounded so pompous. But somehow these hours had given her back some of her self-confidence - of her self-respect. Of course no one there had understood her weird amusement as she had had to announce bad news - the cruise missile - and worse news - the weapon-grade uranium. But the parallels in her own life ... from bad to worse ... and always something more important or terrible around the next corner... Of course smiling had been totally inappropriate.

And now? That was a good question. She was far from feeling great or even good at the moment. She was feeling ... calm? Numb? No, numb would be the wrong word. Stable? Heavens. Maybe it was better for her sanity not to try and analyze everything - considering with how many things she would have to come to grips after this mission. Anyway she had no other choice than to keep going. If she blew her cover at least Foxhound would probably have to pay for it. And however she was feeling at the moment ... it could be worse.

Loren reached a crossing and had just turned into the right path as her cell phone rang. Surprised she slowed down. Who would call her at this time? Except for... Quickly she took the call.

"Yes?"

"Is there Miss F. R. Maine?"

Loren looked both sides and over her shoulder. "Firefighter. Mister Webb?"

"Did I wake you up?"

"No, I'm jogging."

"Kind of early, isn't it?"

"Just the right time to get my head clear."

Pause. Then: "How are you, Loren?"

She grimaced a little. "I'm dealing."

"I've heard of your good work in the Pentagon. That you've got hidden talents as a submariner."

"Thanks, but I guess that drowned in Commander Rabb's riding a dirty nuke to death. He's an amazing man," she replied with absolutely honest admiration.

"Yes, he is. But you are an amazing woman too."

A compliment?! Loren nearly coughed. What had gotten into Webb?

"You're sure you're all right?" she probed carefully. Then the not so pleasing thought hit her that Webb was probably seeing her as a ticking bomb. Was he afraid she would freak out again?

"I take it your sense of sarcasm is back in place," commented Webb dryly. "Good. You'll need it."

Loren gulped. That didn't sound good. Before she could ask Webb continued.

"There will be some fallout of the Kabir-crisis. I've received word that a Senate hearing is scheduled for today."

"Wow," she exclaimed involuntarily, "They're fast this time."

"Fast - and angry. They are not happy how everything has been handled. Nelson is in big trouble."

"It was handled successfully."

"By letting JAG take the lead. Loren, this is strictly unofficial now: Nelson isn't the only one in trouble. All the big bosses are busy looking out for themselves ... including ours. And the SecNav is in the weakest position. The major point is that the Pentagon group lacked an intelligence analyst. No CIA, no Naval Intelligence."

"Oh dear," Loren muttered slowly. She immediately noticed where Webb was heading. "I was there."

"No. Loren Singer was there. A JAG attorney."

"But-"

"And you are not a trained intelligence analyst. You are an operative. An undercover agent. And that will not change."

"That's your opinion. Secretary Nelson maybe has a different point of view." Loren shivered and proceeded down the path.

"Nelson may have his faults but he is a politician through and through. He knows the game. He may not like it especially when it turns against him. But he knows it."

Loren snorted. "Politics. That sounds-" She heard a noise through the line.

"Wait a second."

Webb's cell phone was obviously put on a hard surface then she heard him talk to another man. She tried not to listen but still caught a few words. One of them was a name: Roberts. She frowned. Somewhere a door fell shut. Steps were coming closer and something scratched on - the floor? A chair? Then she heard a muffled: "Oh God."

"Mister - Mister Webb?" She listened intently. After some long seconds the cell phone was taken up again.

"Loren?"

"I'm still here."

"Loren -" Webb sounded suddenly so tired. He started scaring her. "I just - I've just been told that... It seems a JAG officer ... has stepped on a landmine. It..."

Everything froze.

"Roberts," she whispered shocked.

"Yes," confirmed Webb quietly. Then he exploded: "Oh, darn it, Bud, couldn't you watch your step?!"

"Is - is he -?"

"I don't know. I don't know yet. I've just been told because the same helo was supposed to bring me... Oh, darn it!"

Loren already thought about something else. "Lieutenant Sims, has she been informed? What can I tell her?"

"You'll tell her nothing!" Webb immediately switched back into work mode, taking Loren by surprise.

"But- It's her husband!"

"Absolutely no! You'd have no possibility to have this information, Singer would have no possibility to have this information! Besides, at the moment we don't know anything for sure. It could be a scratch or he could be-"

"Dead?" Loren finished hoarsely. Her stomach twisted as she thought of all the things she had said and done since she had known the Lieutenant. "Someone has to tell her."

"Not you." Webb sighed. "Let's be honest, Loren. If she received the news from you what do you think would happen? This may sound cruel but any reassuring smile from you, from Singer, will be a mean smirk. Any word from you will be misinterpreted into the worst. Any consoling you may offer will be triumph."

"I-" Loren wanted to deny the truth of his words but she couldn't. Deep down she knew he was right. As honest as her regret might be, as much as she felt for both Lieutenants - she couldn't escape Singer's shadow. Whatever she said it would hurt Sims only farther. Breathing out she ran a hand through her hair.

"That's not fair." But she knew about the emptiness of her words.

"It's never fair." Webb's voice was bitter. "It's never."

* * *

**- Loren's apartment, Washington D.C.**

Miracles happened. Loren shut the door and leaned against it. Despite all the cruelty of life ... miracles happened. At least Roberts was alive. He had lost a leg, yes, but he was alive.

Sighing she threw her keys on the small table next to the wardrobe and walked towards the kitchen. Of course Webb had been right. Any attempt of being gentle with Lieutenant Sims had ended awful. But she hadn't been able to bear seeing her staring at this computer screen waiting for an answer that would never come. She had had to say something if only to distract her for one single moment. If only to give her someone to be angry with. She had felt so helpless. And Chegwidden had had nothing better to do than playing a trick on poor Tiner. Charge Rabb or Mackenzie with disobeying an order. As if he didn't understand why they had stayed both - and appreciated it secretly.

Still shaking her head Loren poured a glass of orange juice and drank thirstily. Well, Nelson had been less lucky. There Webb had been right too - everyone had acted in their own interest and the SecNav had gotten the short end of the stick.

She put the glass down and stared at it. At least one good thing had come out of this whole mess: Webb had been ordered back to Washington - permanently for the time being. That was a small relief.

* * *

Episode: The Promised Land

* * *

**- JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia**

Loren all but slammed the door of her office shut. She was nearly fuming. Such an unbelievable ignorance and prejudice! The fine son of a Reverend! Of course, if a Christian didn't talk about his religion or practice it or live it, it was perfectly all right. But if she, a Jew, did the same thing, she was trying to conceal it or hide it. As if a Jew had to experience anti-Semitic behavior to prove religiousness! What nonsense!

Scowling she paced up and down in the little space the office provided. As if her grandparents hadn't paid more than their fair share of that point. Besides, it had never been a big part of her upbringing. Her parents had taught her to see the person itself and not the religion that might or might not be practiced. And she didn't practice it for her own private reasons. Whoever wanted to know about her heritage was free to ask and then would get an honest answer. She had never heard Commander Turner ask and for sure she would never excuse herself for not running around and starting conversations with Hey, I'm Jewish and by the way my name is Loren!

Suddenly Loren couldn't help but laugh at herself. Her ranting was ridiculous; it wasn't like the Commander knew her - knew her - and if he preferred to think in fixed patterns and have such a narrow view it was just and simple his own fault. It wasn't worth getting upset about it. Shaking her head she sat down behind her desk.

Corporal Mars wasn't worth getting upset about too. She didn't like the reason for his desertion. Heck, in her situation? Yes, maybe she'd had a mental breakdown but she had stood her ground. Of course she had wrapped Singer's extraordinary talent for exaggeration around the true core and... Singer was Methodist.

A moment her hands shook so violently that she slammed them down on the tabletop to stop them. Her breath caught in her throat.

Singer - was - Methodist!

Oh - oh God, what had she done? What had she...? Almost three years she had pulled it off and now ... How could she have screwed up so badly? How could she...? Oh - oh what had she done?!

All right, calm. She had to keep calm. For a second she pressed her hands to her mouth, fighting for control. She had to think. Possibilities, what were the possibilities? She couldn't change what had happened so she had to look for an explanation. No, not she had to look for an explanation. Singer. She had to think like Singer, had to follow her intentions, her way of doing things. Singer's way of doing things. She would use any advantage she could get a hand on. Had bringing up her own religion been an advantage? Definitely yes. Only it wasn't her true religion, so that was a dead end. Singer, Singer...

Loren frowned and bit her lower lip. What if...? Would she lie to get an advantage? Would Singer pretend to be Jewish? It was in her character ... yes, she could see her doing such a thing. But would she act it out in front of Commander Turner? Had she had a choice? No, once started she'd had to stick to her story. Good. All right. There she had a point. There she had a good point. And now? Would anyone notice the discrepancy between her service record and her statement? Did anyone care? If yes fine, now she could present a reasonable explanation - spoken in Singer-terms. If not ... that wouldn't be so good. It would always be there hanging over her. Well, the only one important was Lindsey ... if no one at JAG stumbled across her lie she would have to drop a hint herself ... make a comment about Rabb ... how she had shut him up ... Lindsey would love it.

Carefully she checked over each part of her train of thought. It could work ... it could actually work.

* * *

**- JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia**

Well, that had gone ... horrible.

Loren watched Commander Turner's retreating back until he had left the courtroom and then exhaled the breath she had been holding. Well, the bomb had been discovered and she had done her best to put a lighted match to the fuse ... but she wasn't sure if she had managed to push Turner hard enough so he would expose her lie. Damn the man, he was much harder to see through than Rabb or Mackenzie or even Chegwidden.

Hopefully, he would tell his buddy Harm. If the rumor got around to Tiner she could be sure anyone would know within the next days. Rubbing her temple she started to follow Turner. Heck, she was actually wishing for him to make her life at JAG even worse! This mission had some strange effects on her.

At least she hoped for a life at JAG to be made even worse. She looked at the paper in her hand. Chosen as JAG for the Seahawk - ouch. Thank God Webb had called her in advance and warned her about Chegwidden's decision. She would never have been able to plaster this grin on her face if she had been caught off guard. Even if it wasn't all that out of the blue in retrospect. Just darn inconvenient.

Amazing Webb had known ... a last favor from the SecNav? Or had Naval Intelligence been good for something this time? Anyway she just hoped he'd find a way to keep her feet on solid ground. She didn't like boats.


	19. Goodbyes Part 1

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episode: Family Business

* * *

**- Watergate Complex, Washington D.C.**

"My itinerary." Loren let the sheet of paper sail across the table as she sat down.

"Yes, I know." Webb reached out and looked it over. His face was unreadable.

"I get seasick on boats." She knew she was wailing but she couldn't help herself.

"I think the correct term is ship." Webb sighed and handed the sheet back to her. "But the facts are still the same: I can't spare you a trip to this carrier. Nelson has offered his resignation and the President has accepted. So everything is up in the air. We've got a pretty good idea who will get the nod but right now there's nothing to deal with. And even after everything will be settled... Considering the events of the past weeks the new SecNav will double- and triple-check anything even smelling like CIA."

"Who can hold it against him," Loren stated dryly.

"Who can hold it against him," agreed Webb quietly. "So let's get down to business. Your relatives?"

"Informed that I've got a new job and will be traveling around the world with my boss for the next months and that it could be difficult to get hold of me. My father asked me to stop by if I happen to be in Europe."

"Nice."

Loren didn't respond. A carrier wasn't Washington where she had at least been free to use a cell phone anytime she had wanted to. They had had to come up with a plausible excuse for her temporary disappearance to tell her family and friends. The story of a new job had satisfied all but Richard. She had even gotten congratulations on having this opportunity. Of course her husband knew too much already to buy what she had told anyone including him - although it was the truth in a twisted way. He had been worried and definitely not pleased, he had even asked if it was really necessary to go, even suggested she should just quit. She hadn't known what to tell him. And she had suddenly realized that she was afraid to face him. To face him after what she had done ... and would never be allowed to tell him.

Webb's penetrating stare brought her back to reality. She shifted uncomfortably on her chair and said the first thing coming to her mind.

"I've got nobody to water my orchid. It's not like I have the best contact with my neighbors." At his look of mild annoyance she added defensively: "It's very special to me."

"I think I can manage to find a solution to this problem," he commented dryly. "Maybe I'll give it to my mother. She's good with orchids if that comforts you."

Without waiting for her reaction he opened one of the files in front of him and glanced over it. She noticed her written reports.

"Give me a summary of Lindsey."

She was about to answer but instead paused and thought again. She had intended to give him a short update as usual - he had the reports, hadn't he - but exactly that was the point. Webb waited patiently as she eyed him closely. A summary. He had said a summary. She felt her heart beating faster. The silences stretched while she decided on her next words.

"Well." She clasped her hands on the table and narrowed her eyes at them.

"After I made first contact at Christmas Eve I tried to keep in touch with him. I called him to ask for information and advice and I made sure to show enough interest in him and his position to attract his attention. We met for dinner several times, first rather formal and seldom but then more frequent and ... less formal in the past months. Although I flirted with him and indicated that I would do more if it helped my career..." Here she paused and stilled her slightly wavering voice. "... he initiated the next step that led to a sexual relationship."

Again she fell silent and carefully banished any emotion out of her next words. "He repeatedly said he could be helpful to my career and complimented me on my skills and my determination. He also made predictions how far I would go within the service - within JAG. He gave advice how to handle the cases I told him about but he never did anything real to help me. I don't think he was involved in giving me the assignment on the Seahawk although he made some comments when he congratulated me."

She slowly rubbed one thumb with the other. "From time to time I pressed a little, talked about being short of money and fished for something I could link to Senvealda's organization. But there wasn't a definite response. He doesn't seem to have money problems though and once or twice mentioned ways to solve such a problem but ... again there is nothing specific."

Loren took a couple of calming breaths. Webb's silence was complete but she didn't look at him. She concentrated entirely on the best way to express the complex conclusion she had formed of facts, hints, feeling, and guessing.

"I'm sure he isn't clean. Call it a gut-feeling but I'm sure there is something. But whenever we talked about 9-11 or terrorism or treachery ... he seemed to be truly disgusted. He may be weak and has used -" She swallowed. "- used the ambition of a junior officer to persuade her into having sex..." The muscles in her neck tightened and she had to clear her throat. "... but I'm probably the wrong person to judge his morality."

Finally she looked up and met Webb's eyes.

"I don't think he's our leak," she finished seriously.

Webb held her gaze steadily just pursed his lips a second.

"Then we are agreed on that one," he acknowledged nodding slightly.

Loren exhaled and sat back on her chair. Their eyes were still firmly locked.

"And now?" she asked in the end.

"You'll go to the Seahawk. And then we'll end this."

Loren dropped her gaze. She had waited so long for these words ... and now she didn't know if she was happy or scared.

Webb's voice seemed to come from far away. "We can't risk the slightest shadow of a doubt falling on Foxhound that makes getting you out kind of difficult. But service on a carrier is dangerous even for a lawyer." He grimaced. "Even without walking into a minefield. I'm considering killing dear Miss Singer off but it all depends on chances and the new SecNav now. Loren, I must warn you. It might take some time to set something up. And you know how fast a month has passed."

She met his concerned gaze with a brave smile. "I've waited for so long I don't think a few months more or less will make such a big difference. At least I'll be out of JAG headquarters - that's already worth something."

"They can be difficult," Webb admitted simply. He looked away. And once more she wondered about the bond that tied him to these people.

"Well-" He had recovered quickly and glanced at his watch. "Here are the basics: Codes, connecting procedures etc. You know the drill. Read and destroy. Give me a call if any question comes up. You're leaving Tuesday so there is more than enough time."

Loren took the thin folder he was offering her, flipped through its contents and stored it safely in her briefcase. For a moment they simply looked at each other, both at a strange loss for words.

"Good, then...," Loren got up slowly and prepared to leave. "I'll go and visit Roberts. Any information about the Seahawk could be helpful."

Webb just nodded. She saw the tight muscles of his jaw.

"Have you seen him yet?" she asked softly.

He shook his head. "It ... would do no good."

She bit her tongue. She didn't agree but who was she to give him advice on his life? Nevertheless she felt the urgent need to say something else, something personal. They had known each other for almost three years now. It wasn't like they would never meet again but still...

"Have - have you heard about Lieutenant Maat?"

"Maat?" Webb frowned. "I don't know any detail but I've thought everything was settled months ago. Your role in her disappearance wasn't revealed, was it? I told her explicitly..."

"Oh, no, no," Loren assured hastily. She had kept a safe distance whenever Katelyn had been around and except for an emotional thank you in the ladies' room she had never talked to Isabel Maat. "I just wondered if you know that she's got single custody for Katelyn."

"That's good."

"Mackenzie even got her off the hook for going UA - without a punishment. The Colonel fought like a tiger."

Webb looked at the table and smiled. "I'm sure my little wildcat did."

'My little wildcat?' Loren stood frozen in shock. 'And a smile like that?'

"You are aware that Mackenzie and Rabb are closer again since Afghanistan?" she blurted out without thinking.

Webb's eyes snapped up at her and she saw his sharp intake of breath and jumped to the door.

"I - I've said nothing! Absolutely nothing! J-just ignore me, I'm - not -"

She fled to the elevators, kicking herself mentally. She didn't dare to breathe out until the door was safely closed. Then she cupped her face and groaned deeply. Why couldn't she just once watch her tongue? That had been a fine piece of diplomacy!

But it had really thrown her for a loop. Webb had a crush on Mackenzie?! When on earth had this happened?! She had always thought the main friendship was between Webb and Rabb and the rest were more kind of a tag along! Had she been so wrong? Or had the various missions in Afghanistan changed more than just the balance between the two JAG attorneys? And there had been a shift in their relation, she just wasn't sure if it was for better or worse. At the moment it looked like they were going to spoil their rebuilt friendship again by getting ... somewhere else.

But Webb and Mackenzie? Loren shook her head. Yes, she had heard rumors that the Colonel had had a touch-and-go in one of the prison camps and that he had been around but ... he and Mackenzie? And the woman didn't seem to answer his feelings. All right, she hadn't the best opinion of the Marine for some very personal reasons but still... She just hoped Webb knew what he was doing.

Sighing she made a face. As if anyone was able to control who one fell in love with.

But maybe she was overreacting. Webb wasn't blind and considering the strong natural reserve in his character he would probably never say anything in this direction as long as he saw Rabb as a friend ... except for he'd be drunk, drugged or dying. And although any of these possibilities could unfortunately happen in his - their - line of work it was rather unlikely anyone of JAG would be around that very moment to hear his confession.


	20. Goodbyes Part 2

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episode: Family Business (Don't be confused but this time I've split an episode in two chapters)

* * *

**- JAG Headquarters, Falls Church, Virginia**

Loren was very quiet during the ride down in the elevator and thankfully Sergei Zhukov did nothing to disturb her thoughts.

It was strange. Most of the time she had been at JAG headquarters she had wished to be somewhere else. She had never been a part of the family, had always been the detestable outsider, the witch, that person Singer... And now she was sad to go. It was almost laughable especially after this short goodbye. It would be laughable if their indifference didn't sting that much. And the fact that she - that Singer - deserved this treatment did nothing to soothe the pain. - But, boy, she had almost slapped Turner left and right with his present!

For almost three years JAG had somehow been the center of her life. Despite the mission. Despite her real life, Richard, her family. She had lived there, worked there, she had sometimes laughed with the people there and sometimes she had cried with them ... even if only in her soul. Three years weren't something you could simply leave behind. They were a part of her in good and bad. Somehow these years had made her stronger... and they had almost destroyed her too.

The elevator door opened and together with Sergei she stepped down the stairs of the entrance and walked to her car. He placed the box with her stuff in the trunk she opened for him.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He smiled at her. "Do you regret you have to go?"

She looked at the familiar building one last time and considered his question. Regret? She was feeling sad in a strange way, yes, but was it regret? Her gaze traced the rows of windows, searched for Chegwidden's office. And she said a silent goodbye. As she turned away she answered Sergei's smile.

"No. But it has been a long time."

"I understand what you mean." He shifted nervously. "Lieutenant? May I invite you to dinner? Tonight? Or tomorrow?"

Surprised she raised her brows. Where did that come from? But one look in his open face told her enough. She sighed.

"Sergei... I'm leaving Tuesday and it will take quite some time until I'll come back to the States. And I'm ... I'm not..."

The young Russian blushed deep red and studied his toes. His mumble was hard to understand. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to imply... It's just ... I'll leave the day after tomorrow and I thought maybe we can have somewhere a - uhm - nice goodbye-evening together. We never had much time to get to know each other..."

"You'll leave?" Now she was even more surprised. "Where are you going?"

"Back to Russia." He sighed. "I don't belong here. I know that now."

A bored homesick young man. She felt pity for him.

"Surely you would rather spend your last evenings with your brother than with somebody you barely know," she said gently.

He just pulled his shoulders up. "Harm hasn't got time. This case is keeping him occupied."

"Oh, Sergei..." - 'Rabb, you idiot!' She looked away to gather her thoughts and then back at him. "Sergei, I'm not interested in ... well, you know. I'm ... there is someone else."

He blushed even more and started to back away.

"But ... yes, I would like to have dinner if we had an agreement about that point," she finished and offered a careful smile.

His face brightened. "You would?"

"Tomorrow. Tonight I'll be busy." Although her near departure had provided an excellent excuse for not seeing Lindsey she hadn't been able to escape a last drink together without giving a strange impression. It was turning her stomach but as Webb had said correctly: They couldn't risk taking any chances. Well, she would get it over with and then return to her apartment - and definitely alone!

She focused back on the young Russian. "Just keep the ground rules in mind."

"Of course-" His smile changed into a grin. "- darling."

"Darling?" Again she raised her brows at him.

"A completely - what's the word - plutonic evening, sweetheart."

She chuckled. "Platonic. The word is platonic and you better watch it - sky jockey."

"Yes, darling. Where?"

Loren contemplated the question for a second but she already knew. "Benzinger's."

* * *

**- Loren's car, en route to the airport, two days later**

"He came."

"Huh?" Sergei snapped out of his dark musing and turned his head to face her.

"He came," Loren repeated gently and glanced at her passenger. "He was late, yes, but he came."

The young Russian exhaled in a sigh. "It doesn't matter any more."

"Hey, Sergei." Loren reached out and touched his arm but kept her eyes on the road. "He loves you. Just in his own way."

"Yeah, but it's always his way."

"You are brothers."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Loren just smirked and after a second he laughed with her.

"Anyway thanks for picking me up. I know it was at rather short notice and I wasn't sure if..." he trailed off.

"No big deal. I've got the time."

She felt his searching gaze and again she was almost sure he had seen through the façade she was presenting to the world. Of course, whatever he guessed would never be near the real truth but even the first time they had met the young Russian had seen deeper than anybody else around her. Maybe she should be worried but somehow she wasn't. Sergei Zhukov, she had come to realize in the course of the last evening, could have been a friend in a different life, under different circumstances.

Loren smiled somewhat bitter-sweet. They had shared a wonderful dinner at Benzinger's full of shameless flirtation and teasing banter ... God only knew what anybody else had been thinking about them. It hadn't mattered. It might have looked real but they had known better. Their understanding had been - and was - so mutual ... and even if everything was based on a lie - at least from her side - the feeling itself was real. For both. And then, then she had checked her voicemail while being in the ladies' room. She felt her cheeks starting to burn.

"You look happy, Loren." Sergei's comment made her blush even more.

"I am happy at the moment."

Thankfully, they just reached the airport and it took all their attention to find a parking space in front of the right entrance. Sergei jumped out of the car and got his suitcases and Loren jointed him on the sidewalk. For a second they just stood in front of each other.

Loren searched his eyes. "It was a lovely evening, Sergei. Any part of it."

He smiled. "Same to me."

She hesitated and looked around. "Sergei... You remember our deal? Whoever may ask, whatever the circumstances - we two have spent this night or at least most of it together. I need your word for that. Whatever may happen, you must stick to it. Promise?"

His eyes were serious. "I promised you last night, I promise you now. But Loren... I'm not asking any questions but ... just be careful, will you? Be careful."

There was so much concern in his eyes, concern for her. Like there had been last night when she had left him outside Benzinger's and impulsively she stepped forward and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"You know, there is a very lucky woman out there," she whispered softly.

He looked puzzled.

"She'll get you."

And he beamed a smile that proved beyond any doubt that he had to be related to Harmon Rabb junior. The next second he gave her a tight hug.

"Take good care of you, Sergei."

He answered something in Russian. Loren raised a brow.

"Can you translate that?"

"No, the translation would spoil it. But it's something we say to good friends in Russia when we have to say goodbye." He picked up his suitcases and his grin told her that they were back to banter. "Hey, I've just thought again. This way I can tell everybody I spent my last night here with one of the most beautiful women in America. A wonderful one - one -"

She slapped his arm. "One-night stand, silly. Don't overdo it! Now go before you'll miss your plane."

He looked over her shoulder. "And you better go before you'll get a ticket."

"What?" She turned. "Oh, darn it!"

She ran around her car followed by Sergei's laughter. He waved, already on his way into the terminal, and she waved back as she pulled away.

Back on the road to Washington she allowed herself a sigh. Yes, she would miss the young Russian. The message last night hadn't been what he suspected but Webb would nevertheless have a fit if he ever found out what she had done. No matter how careful she had been - heck, she had changed the taxi twice and even walked the last half a mile to the motel - to a certain level it had still been stupid. But it had been worth it. Oh, yes, it had been worth it.

The thought of the message brought another idea to her mind and Loren stopped at the next possibility to check her voicemail. Of course. She dialed the number.

"Loren?" he answered immediately.

"I miss you too, Richard," she whispered back. "How was your flight?"

"OK. A little bit bumpy."

She smiled into the air. "Thank you for coming. Thank you for -" She wasn't able to finish the sentence.

"You didn't think I'd let you go without a proper goodbye, did you?" he teased gently.

His voice brought back memories of the last night and she swallowed hard. When she had reached the door with the number he had left on her voicemail she had been barely more than a nervous wreck. Fear, regret, excitement and panic had fought in her but all had been swept away soon after he had opened the door and pulled her into his embrace.

He hadn't asked why she had tensed at his first touch. He hadn't asked why she had cried. And finally she had lost herself in his arms. His touch, his smell, his voice, the taste of his lips... She hadn't been able to stop tracing his features, feeling his body against hers as he had held her close... A huge teddy bear slightly out of shape and growing a belly but so much he, so much Richard...

Loren swallowed again, fighting against misty eyes. "I love you, Richard. You know I do, don't you?"

"I love you too. Hush now, I told you, you don't have to explain anything to me. Just be safe and come back to me."

"I will."


	21. Consequences

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episode: When The Bough Breaks

* * *

**- USS Seahawk, Arabian Sea**

Loren slowly ran her flat hands along both sides of her head and kneaded her neck. She stared down at the report in front of her. Was she able to do this? Was she able to pull through this? On the other hand - had she any other choice?

'I've got to get off this ship.' The sentence that had run through her head for more than two months now returned again. 'I've got to get off this ship.'

She took a shaky breath. Involuntarily her hands moved down to her belly. Her slowly but more and more visibly growing belly. Her fingernails dug into the cloth of her uniform and for a moment the trembling got hold of her whole body until she pulled herself together again. The suspicion had dawned on her just weeks after she had set foot on this ship. No matter how weird and irregular her body had been acting for months because of the mental turmoil in her head ... she had simply known she was pregnant.

'I've got to get off this ship.'

Jerking her head up she breathed again deeply, not allowing the panic to consume her entirely. Pregnant. She was carrying a child. And she wasn't sure whose. Her knuckles went white as she clenched her fists. She wasn't sure whose. Richard's ... or Lindsey's.

What if it was Lindsey's? What if it was his? Oh yes, she had always insisted on using a condom but even that was a hundred percent safe... Damn it, why was she one of those women who weren't able to take the pill? The one and only time she had tried it she had ended up in the emergency room of the next hospital, scaring her parents to death, and after that the doctor had simply told her no, no way. And anyway it should have been impossible. Her last time with Lindsey should have been too early and the night with Richard too late. But obviously impossible hadn't been enough. She couldn't even have a check on how far she was, not here, not in the sickbay of a Navy carrier! So what if - what if -?!

Squeezing her eyes shut she gritted her teeth. No, she wouldn't break down again. She wouldn't allow herself to break down again. Not now. Not here. For the hundreds time she told herself how tiny the chance was that Lindsey was the father. That considering the timetable and the circumstances Richard was a far better guess. But logic did very little to console her overstretched nerves at the moment.

Shame and fear had held her back from contacting Webb right away. She had clung to the hope he would find a possibility to get her out fast ... that it wouldn't be necessary to tell him in an impersonal message. God, she had even prayed for a natural abort. Stress, seasickness ... wasn't that damaging to a pregnancy? Didn't something like that happen all the time to women all over the world? But it had turned out that it had been less seasickness and more morning sickness that had made her life miserable ... and then she had suddenly received a message, informing her about a change in positions and that she had a new superior.

There the first wave of real panic had washed over her. She had reacted immediately also she hadn't been able to bring herself to admit the truth. So she had reported health problems and insisted on an immediate transfer out. There had been no response. Even when she had finally sent the plain truth I'm pregnant - and how long had she worked to code this little sentence correctly - all she had got back was an order to wait.

To wait. What a joke! There was not enough time to wait any longer! She was starting to show, she had even ordered some of her uniforms to be let out at the waist so she could mask her condition a little longer. She was afraid of the curious eyes around her and especially of those of her nosy young legalman, Petty Officer Coates. Had no one at Langley a clue what would happen if her pregnancy was discovered? This was the Navy, damn it. There were rules and it wasn't like she could explain who the father was! She would not consider Lindsey a possibility. She would not!

Again she clenched the uniform over her belly in her fist. 'Where are you, Webb? What did happen? What did happen to you?'

Webb, she knew, could be cold and calculating and was able to sacrifice anything and anyone for the sake of a mission ... but he would have moved heaven and earth as soon as he'd got word of her current situation. There wasn't a mission anymore, on the contrary, it could be damaging to the whole operation if her affair with Lindsey became public. If they started to dig up dirt how far would they go back? She still didn't believe Lindsey had anything to do with Senvealda's organization but Singer had. It could even jeopardize Foxhound's cover in the worst case! And she also knew that wouldn't have been Webb's only motivation. She just knew deep down he cared.

She felt tears welling up in her eyes. How she wished to hear his voice at least over the phone. Was he dead? Had his profession finally managed to kill him? Or had he simply lost in that power struggle going on at Langley? Had he risked too much in the end?

Taking another deep breath she pushed these useless thoughts out of her mind and rested stiff fingers on the first sheet of paper in the folder in front of her. Now she needed a clear head. She was on her own. It seemed the CIA had left her in the lurch so she had to take matters in her own hands. And the recent accident, terrible as it was, was giving her an opening. Her fingers trembled.

Was she able to do this? The landing signal officer, the air boss, so many others... Was she able to possibly ruin their careers with her charges? But if Captain Johnson reacted the way she hoped he would simply throw her off his ship one way or the other and another JAG investigator, probably directly from JAG headquarters, should be able to clear them of all accusations. The more important question was if she really was able to pull through it. At some rational level she was well aware of her mood swings thanks to the roller-coaster ride of her hormones and how difficult it was sometimes not to burst into tears at any harsh word. And harsh words she would get because of her report.

Loren bit her lower lip and got up slowly. She closed the folder and held it to her chest where her heart felt like a stone. But she had to get off this ship. She had to. At all costs. She stepped around her desk and walked to the door.

* * *

**- Over the Arabian Sea**

Well, at least she was off the ship.

But that was the only thing that had gone as planned. Oh, no, Captain Johnson had reacted just as she had calculated ... only a little bit too enthusiastically. Her short attack of dizziness on the bridge had been unfortunate. Even more unfortunate had been that Johnson had taken the opportunity to order her to sickbay for a medical check-up. What had he hoped for? Proof that she was insane? Well, the doctor really would have had to be blind, incompetent and completely innocent to overlook her condition. Of course he hadn't. And this was still the Navy.

Loren stared out in the sky and refused to look at Rabb or to react to his attempts to talk to her. She would never allow him to hurt her like that again. Ridiculous, she had really believed his gentle words. She had really thought he felt sympathy for her because of her situation. But he had been spying on her. He had had his own selfish reasons. He didn't feel sympathy for her; he was concerned her child could be a blood relative of him. This stupid man and his family complex. That stupid dinner at Benzinger's. But of course it had been her own mistake. She had wanted to see too much of Sergei in the elder brother. She had wanted to see something that simply wasn't there. These two men might be half-brothers but it didn't mean they were alike. She would never make this mistake again. No, never again.

Mackenzie had at least been honest about her dislike and her suspicion. The woman had her faults but at least she was straightforward. Well, as long as it didn't come to the men in her life. If she had found any indication that she had conceived aboard the Seahawk she would have nailed her to the next wall.

Loren sighed. That had been the only point she had known herself on safe ground. She had been so careful to avoid any kind of personal contact with the crew. The Singer-behavior had worked miracles again.

She shifted in her seat. And now? Now she would go and face the next witch- hunt at JAG headquarters. The whispers. The looks. Hey, there's Lieutenant Singer again, yes, she's got herself pregnant, didn't you know? Oh yes, she's really deep in trouble.

The cold in her was chilling.

Damn them all. She had survived the Seahawk she was going to survive JAG headquarters too. And she definitely didn't intent to stay long. There was a lot of leave she had never taken while working there and she was sure Chegwidden would grant her request to take it now as soon as possible. It would give the CIA time to come up with a plan to get her out and this time for good. Among other things. She had ruined her life for the Agency. Now it was their turn to do something for her.

Although she had thrown the first thing into Rabb's face that she had been rather certain would hurt him too, it hadn't been a lie. If this child was Lindsey's she would have an abortion. She would not give birth to or raise a child whose father and the circumstances of its conception were - were... No child deserved to be born to live with a lie. But if it was Richard's...

Loren closed her eyes and fought back tears which threatened to escape her control. Richard. There was no way their relationship could survive such a blow. How should he ever forgive her? She couldn't ask that much. She had no right to ask that much. Again she stared blankly into the sky. She was going to lose him. As soon as she would tell him the truth - the part she was allowed to - she knew she was going to lose him. But it was the only way. He deserved to know ... if only to give him the chance to turn his back on her and leave without any feeling of regret.


	22. Expectations

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episode: The Killer

* * *

**- Outside the Roberts' house**

Loren settled down in her car and strapped in. Then she turned and looked back at the house. She wasn't sure what had driven her to come at all. Curiosity? Loneliness? Harriet Sims' unexpected approach and her offer to ... talk had quite surprised her. It had surprised her even more that she hadn't been able to shoo her off with her first harsh remarks in the cafeteria.

Heck, she had definitely been in no mood for talking. JAG headquarters had fulfilled any of her worst expectations. Tiner, Sturgis Turner ... no, not even Singer would have deserved such treatment. At least she had been spared from dealing with Rabb again. She really had to call Sergei and prepare him before he'd be thrown off by his brother. She trusted the young Russian to keep her secret but a fair warning was definitely called for.

She rested her hands on the steering wheel. Rabb's motive for his actions was clear. As was Tiner's or Turner's. But Harriet Sims? So yes, maybe it had been curiosity that had brought her here. And then she had been greeted with is that the wicked witch?. A smile curled up the corners of her mouth. Sims' face had almost been comical as she had heard the words of her son. Wizard of Oz, huh? Good reaction though. But of course the Lieutenant understood none of her problems. How could she? It was impossible.

Nevertheless, she was somehow glad she had stopped by. Sims' had really bit the bullet as she had decided to try and talk to her. They weren't friends. They would never be, too long the secret war between the two of them had continued, too many lies had been told. But maybe ... maybe even if they were not able to make peace they had at least been able to settle for a truce. Maybe at least the painful bitterness between them had ended.

Loren considered her hands. And some of Sims' words had been nearer to the truth than she would ever know, just in a different context. Like what she had said about that sometimes not doing something was the hardest part but living with it afterwards. Living with it forever. Just few people were able to understand that.

Involuntarily her eyes wandered to her purse where she knew her cell phone in. She hesitated and glanced at her watch. She had still more than enough time to catch her flight and somehow she doubted that anyone had bothered to change the number but... No, she had no right to add to his problems because she felt the need for a shoulder to cry on. That cold bastard Kershaw at Langley had refused to tell her anything but she had managed to corner Bonettry on her way out of the building. The woman had practically squirmed out of her hands but she had learned enough. So again it had been a favor to Rabb that had got Webb into trouble. And he was in deep this time.

No. She dismissed the thought of calling him. It wouldn't be fair. He had done everything within his power to complete a plan to get her off the Seahawk before he had had to leave. In fact everything had been arranged shortly afterwards, they had just been waiting for the right time - as Kershaw had very sharply pointed out together with some nasty remarks why she had taken action and spoiled everything. She had bit her tongue and remained silent. She had known better than to scream back why she hadn't been informed from the start. It would have been the wrong tactic. At the moment she wanted something from the Agency and so it was better to swallow her anger - as hard as it had been.

And for the same reason any further contact would be more dangerous for Webb than for her. His career was damaged enough already, her call - especially if he tried to help her because of it - would make things worse. She wondered briefly if anyone at JAG had even bothered to think about him after he had been sent away to South America. Well, all right, Webb wasn't a man who wrote picture postcards too.

Again she checked the time then reached for the key. She noticed that her fingers trembled slightly. Despite the brave mask she was wearing for the world right now she was afraid of Chicago. She was scared to death to face Richard. Yes, sometimes living with it afterward was the hardest part. Because there was always someone to be hurt.

* * *

**- A suburb of Chicago**

"I'm three months pregnant. But as things stand I'm not entirely sure it's yours."

The words and what they implied still vibrated in the silence between them. Richard's face was blank. Numb. Frozen. As numb and frozen as she felt inside. She was losing him. She knew she was losing him. But there was no other way than to tell him as fast as possible and get it over with. She forced her lips to move.

"I know you have no reason to believe me but you are the only man I've ever had unprotected sex with." Her voice sounded brittle and emotionless in her own ears. Like broken glass under heavy boots. "It was never part of the original mission. But things changed some months ago and one thing led to another and - somehow everything got out of hand."

He was watching her silently. She swallowed.

"There are tests although it's a risk to the baby. But they need DNA to compare the child's with and it's impossible to ask this ... other man. Or to get it without his - anyone's - knowledge."

He still just looked at her.

"I know ... I know I have no right to ask," she continued slowly. "But I will not have this child if you are not the father. Rather I will..." she trailed off.

The silence was heavy. And then Richard shook his head, turned and walked out of the room.

Loren watched him go. The pain was a frozen drop in her emptiness. Seconds ticked by, minutes. It didn't matter. She just stood there without thinking, without feeling. It was over. Everything was over. After an eternity she found the strength to move again and slowly made it into the corridor and turned to the door. She was glad she had wisely left her small suitcase in the rental car.

"Where are you going?"

Richard's voice stopped her two steps from the entrance. Without turning around she knew he was standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

"A hotel," she managed to get out. "I don't want to disturb you anymore."

She heard his sigh.

"Does he mean anything to you?"

She tensed at the question.

"No!" It was a strangled hiss.

"No," she repeated calmer. "I hated it. I hated any second. But I know that is no excuse. No justification. It - it wasn't like he raped me or something like that. And nobody really ordered me to do it. I just ... made a decision." She stared straight ahead. "I know there are no words to tell you how sorry I am I did this to you. I know there is nothing I can say."

He didn't answer and after another moment she reached for the door handle.

"Loren, can you please be less stubborn and stop jumping to my conclusions?"

His words jerked her around. She stared at him in disbelief.

Richard rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't give me that look. You really think I didn't notice how much you have changed in the past six months? You were tense and guarded from the start but a few weeks after our wedding it got worse. You think I didn't notice how you avoided calling me and the few times I actually got hold of you, you barely talked to me? Or that you almost jumped out of your skin when I touched you first in that motel in Washington? You really think I'm that blind? Or stupid? Or ignorant?"

He shook his head but continued to nail her with an angry glare. "I know you, Loren. I know you well. I know how you act when there's too much pressure on you or you think you've done something wrong. And honestly, I have read and seen too many spy novels in my life to keep my fantasy at bay."

Loren's jaw hung. Richard had stripped her off her carefully constructed guard with a few words, leaving her exposed and naked ... and feeling somewhat ridiculous.

"B-b-but I-I-I thought you hate me!" she choked out.

He snorted. "Oh, I'm not overly thrilled. But I walked into this marriage with my eyes wide open and it's still my decision if I hate you or not. So it would be nice you'd stop deciding for me!"

Considering her shocked face he sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair. His expression softened.

"You know when you were gone for almost a year ... darn it, I was so annoyed that you were gone for so long, sulking in my misery... And then suddenly this guy stood at the door and told me you might be seen on television and that I should be prepared to present our friends, our families a bunch of barefaced lies. I got so angry I started shouting at him. Like: what about me? And: I've waited long enough... And: Go and look for someone else to do your dirty work..." Richard paused a second, looking at the floor. Then he shrugged and continued: "This guy - what was his name... Webb, that's it. Well, this Webb-guy just listened to me and then asked if I was finished and then ... he told me in very plain words that I should stop being such a selfish bastard and that you were the one who was out there and deserved to be thought about."

Loren just stared. She knew all too well how plain Webb was able to be with words.

"And he told me that if I wasn't able to wait and to support you and to - and to forgive you, it would be a good idea to think again if I was the right man for you. That if I wasn't, I should draw the line now for the sake of both of us and not when it would be too late." He made a little face and exhaled slowly. "It was the worst dressing-down I've ever received. But I've thought a lot about his words since then. I ... I thought about them whenever I got impatient and annoyed and whenever you told me again you would be gone longer still - all right usually after I had calmed down enough to think clearly again. But I thought about them before we went to the city hall. And I thought about them three months ago after you had called and said you would be out of the country for a while and this time completely out of touch. And ... maybe because of his words I decided to go to Washington and meet you that night."

While she still stood rigid he finally crossed the corridor until he was in front of her. He reached up but stopped before his hand touched her skin. She felt his warmth, saw the pain in his eyes.

"I barely recognized you, Loren. I barely did today," he whispered. "He said this job changes anybody but - you just walked in and slapped everything into my face. What has made you so hard? Darn it, Loren, I've waited for so long - what has made you so sure I wouldn't even try to understand?"

Her lips quivered no matter how tightly she pressed them together and in the end she just lifted her shoulders a tiny bit. As she blinked a silent tear slipped down her face.

He sighed and his eyes were sad ... and gentle. "Let's do this test. Then ... we'll see."

--

A/N: Two more chapters to go now.


	23. Fate

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

--

Episodes: Complications and the dawn of Ice Queen/Meltdown

* * *

**- Loren's apartment, Washington D.C.**

'Ireland?' Loren, still in her coat, once more considered the plane ticket she had been ordered to buy - among setting up an apartment in San Diego - and shook her head. Well, as long as it would get her out why not? Kershaw's plan seemed to be a little bit too far off to be efficient but he probably had his reasons for doing it this way and no other. So she would fly to Ireland, meet a mysterious man - and then Singer and the assumed father of her child were going to die in an accident somewhere on the road. The problems of driving on the left-hand side? Oh, well. She shrugged the thought off. Everything would be wrapped up nicely and no one would grieve over that witch Singer for long.

Except for one person, maybe. No, probably. Loren sighed. She didn't like what she had to do to Sergei. But considering his talent for seeing deeper than the surface he'd probably guess the truth - or at least draw comfort from the possibility. The young Russian had been a priceless help to fight off his quite troublesome brother. Good God, she still didn't know whether to laugh, scream or cry.

Give it to me?! Oh, please! She wasn't opposed to single fathers but - Commander Harmon Rabb and a baby?! Getting up every hour at night to feed it or change diapers? And then work a twelve hour shift? Just by the way, where was the little thing supposed to stay during this time? No, wait, she had a better idea, he would take paternity leave and go crazy without his beloved Navy. The man had no idea what he was asking for. Nevertheless, the gesture itself could have been sweet but it was all just because he thought her child was a blood relative. Would he have made the offer if he hadn't taken it in his head that Sergei was the father? With Singer as the mother? Very unlikely.

Loren snorted. She didn't deny Rabb a caring side ... but only as long as it didn't disturb his fine-tuned life too much. Sergei was a very telling example. Rabb had good intentions but he tended to underestimate the long- term consequences. He jumped in, did what had to be done, yes - and afterwards felt free to live his own life again. That worked well in his job. But family and relationships were something completely different. Maybe that was the reason why he and Mackenzie obviously hadn't been able to get things straight and had fallen back into their old habit of picking on each other. She wondered briefly what had started the battle this time.

Drawing in a deep breath and exhaling slowly Loren ran a hand over her belly. Again she felt her knees go weak. It was Richard's. No, she was Richard's. Their girl. Their little baby girl. The tests had been a hundred percent conclusive. And for the first time she actually hoped they would be able to work it out.

Loren stared at the ticket in her hands. Of course not everything had gone or was going smoothly. Too much damage had been done, too much tension was between them. Rather than fighting they were dancing around each other on the tips of their toes, both afraid to say something or do something that would hurt the other. Both afraid of touching things none of them were ready to face yet. But they were getting along. Slowly, stumbling ... but with an honesty that made up for a lot of things. On a certain level they were closer now than they had ever been ... and at the same time farther apart.

Maybe it wasn't bad they had had to separate again, that she had had to return to her role as Singer one more time. It was giving them an opportunity to think, to come to terms with themselves and with each other. But now everything was on its way. For the Navy she was on maternity leave and whatever these people - Chegwidden, Rabb, Mackenzie, the Roberts or all the others - might or might not think about her decision to put the baby up for adoption was no longer of any importance to her. All that was left to do now was to get rid of her uniform, pack a few things and catch this flight.

Her cell phone rang and interrupted her thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Loren?"

For a second she froze. Then she scolded herself for not having checked the number on the display first.

"Theodore," she answered flatly.

"Loren, we must talk."

She grimaced at his slightly wailing voice. "There's nothing we'd have to talk about."

"Please, Loren. I've just heard... Look, I know I overreacted the last time we talked and I'm sorry. But please, meet with me."

"Overreacted?" she scoffed, her last encounters with Commander Theodore Lindsey hadn't been exactly pleasant. "You accused me of having been careless. And that was one of your nicer remarks."

"Loren, I was upset. I wasn't thinking. But I've heard - I've heard you haven't had an abortion."

She said nothing.

"Loren, please, you've said you would have one. What has changed your mind so suddenly?"

Still she didn't answer. What was there to say? Lindsey was a bad joke but he was still a human being.

"What do you want, Loren? Money? Promotion? We - we can talk about that."

His words caused her to frown. "What do you mean?"

"Meet with me. In thirty minutes at the river, I'm sure you remember the place."

Oh, she did - one of his more romantic ideas. She considered telling him an outright no but ... oh, well, it could do no harm. And he was a human being.

"Oh, all right," she agreed hesitantly. He hung up before she could rethink her decision.

Loren used the ticket as a fan. The last thing she needed was a confrontation with Lindsey but it was an opportunity to tie up loose ends ... nevertheless, it was better to do it properly. She dialed Kershaw's number - and promptly got his secretary.

"Mister Kershaw, please."

"Mister Kershaw is not available at the moment. Who am I talking to?"

"And when will he be available again?" she countered. She still felt uncomfortably exposing her cover.

"I really don't know. But if you want to leave a message...?"

"No, thank you," Loren sighed slightly annoyed, "I'll call again later."

Walking to the door she shoved the cell in one pocket and then did the same with the plane ticked she still had in her hand. Then she looked at her watch. She'd have to hurry if she wanted to be punctually.

* * *

**- At the river**

"Well?" The way Lindsey was staring at her belly was disturbing and Loren crossed her arms in front of her chest, hiding it a tiny bit from his view. "You wanted to talk, talk."

Lindsey drew his eyes away from her middle section and licked his lips. "Loren... What do you want?"

'Being away from here.' But aloud she answered: "A lot of things, Theodore. A lot of things you're obviously not able to give me."

"Why have you changed your mind about the abortion?"

"Maybe because I think it'd have been more damaging to my career than to put the child up for adoption?" she lied smoothly although her stomach clenched. 'Sorry, darling. Don't listen to that.'

"You - you know it could be damaging to ... our careers if - if they ever find out..."

Uh-oh, this direction it was heading. Well, it wasn't unexpected just ugly. The sooner she'd get it over with, the better. And if she had to turn the knife for that ... so it had to be.

"Correct me, but you're still superior to me, aren't you." She narrowed her eyes at his uncomfortable face. "Afraid the SecNav will kick your butt? Afraid of what your sweet little wife would say?"

"Leave - leave my family alone!"

"Why, Theodore? You really think if everything goes down I'll take all the blame? In your dreams. If you had been more careful this child would never have happened." - 'Mommy's just kidding, baby. It's just a game.' - "I've worked too hard to ruin everything I've achieved yet."

"What do you want, Loren?" Lindsey sounded really in panic now. "You - you can't do this to me! Is - is it money? Do you want money? That's no problem, I - I've put something aside. What do you want? Three thousand? Five?"

Loren thoughts were racing. She had had quite some insight into Lindsey's financial situation and knew he shouldn't be able to make such an offer - especially without his wife's knowledge. A cold hand reached for her heart. She had always sensed he was hiding something but she had never thought... Had she been wrong? Had she and Webb actually been so wrong? Had she finally found the leak? But too many things didn't fit ... no, she still couldn't accept a connection with Senvealda's organization. Nevertheless, there was something and if she wanted to find out - not that she really had a choice - it had to be now or never.

"Don't try to put me off with that nonsense, Theodore. You really think I would be content with a tip considering..." She let the sentence hang. It was a blind bluff but the way his eyes nearly popped out of his head she knew she had hit the mark.

"You - you know?!" His voice was a high squeak. She knew she had to nail him before he recovered.

"Don't be naïve," she put all of Singer's cruelty into her words. "You really think I've ever been interested in you? In you?" She saw the realization hit him and pushed harder. "Ten thousand, Theodore, darling. Or everybody will know who the father of this child is ... including your perfect little family." - 'Just one more minute, baby. It's over in a minute, I promise, but mommy has to do this. Just one more minute.'

He blanched to an ugly grey. "I - I don't have ten thousand, Loren! Whatever you've heard, I don't have that much!"

"What I've heard is that you have been paid well enough for what you have done."

"Loren, for heaven's sake! It - it was just once! The case was - probably it would have never come to trial even if I hadn't dropped it! Look, all that Lieutenant wanted was a clean record... Yes, I took the money but it did no damage! You - you would have done the same thing in my position! But it wasn't - it wasn't that much! Loren, I swear it, what you ask is impossible!"

She just stared at him. That was it? That was it? He had taken a - a bribe to drop a case?! One single case?! She had wasted her time on that?!

"Loren, Loren, please..."

She shook her head at his wail. She turned without listening anymore.

"What - what are you going to do..."

Loren didn't answer as she started walking away. Served him right - he should stew in his own juice. Soon enough he would learn of Singer's death and would be free to feel safe for the rest of his life. She didn't care any longer. It was over. It was really over. She was free. Free of this mission, free of JAG, free of Lieutenant Singer ... even free of the Agency. Each step she took was a heavy weight off her shoulders, the weight of three years of lies and hiding and sacrifices.

A smile touched her lips as she ran a hand over her belly. 'We're going home, darling. Finally, finally, we're going home.'

She hadn't noticed how icy it was underneath the snow.

She slipped.

And fell.


	24. The Highest Price

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

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**2003**

* * *

**- Arlington National Cemetery, the Columbarium**

Lieutenant Loren Singer had served her country and no matter how questionable the circumstances of her death had been the Navy had taken its responsibility for one of their own as no one had stepped forward and claimed the body when it had been released. But due to these circumstances the honor of a ground burial had seemed to be inappropriate. So - after a check on her religion in the service record - the easiest way out had been a silent cremation of the Lieutenant and her unborn child. In fact it had caused a little disturbance within JAG headquarters that her true religion had been listed as Methodist. But Commander Turner had had a simple explanation for the discrepancy and so it had soon been shrugged off as one of those Singer-things. And after everything had been over, life had returned to its normal chaos.

Clayton Webb looked up into the sky and narrowed his eyes against the sun. He still couldn't believe it: they had actually allowed the Navy to cremate a Jew. It would have been so easy to set something up - a distant relative, an old friend who would have been able to claim the body but no, Kershaw had played it safe. Foxhound was still out there, tearing Senvealda's organization apart from the inside, little by little, his cover had had priority. It still had priority. And yes, Loren had never lived her religion but anyway ... it wasn't right.

Webb sighed. The sad thing was he understood Kershaw's reasons. He wished he could be sure he'd have acted differently but he couldn't. Too much had been at stake to pay regard to one person's life ... or soul. Hopefully, God - by whatever name he was called - had more mercy on a brave woman who had paid the highest price.

Pulling the cover deeper into his face he considered again the silent surroundings of the Columbarium. He had first learned what had happened when he had returned to the States to prepare for the mission in Paraguay. That Loren had never left the Seahawk the way it had been planned, that she had been pregnant and that she had then disappeared months ago without a trace. That, when her dead body had surfaced, Harmon Rabb had been brought to trial as her assumed murderer and that the NCIS had finally managed to convict the true culprit, Theodore Lindsey. That she had just been burnt.

He had lost his temper when he had found out all these things. He should have known better. Kershaw was no man to talk to like that, even - and especially - by one Clayton Webb in disgrace. And so he and Mac had ended up in Paraguay without any back-up except Victor Galindez ... and a dangerous but well planned mission had turned an awful mess.

But with that Kershaw had overstepped the line too - and he had known it. For no other reason he had allowed Harm to go down to Paraguay and save them all.

Webb shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It had been a very awkward visit Kershaw had paid to his hospital room. But - they had reached a quid pro quo: He would keep his mouth shut, cover for Kershaw in front of the DCI ... and Kershaw would get him his old position back. Of course the big boss had known or at least guessed what had been going on but as long as everything had been settled with as little noise as possible ... who really cared.

The first thing Webb had done back in the saddle had been sending two of their best interrogators down to Leavenworth where Theodore Lindsey was locked away. He had had no doubts that the mysterious woman, who had tried to call Kershaw that day in January, had been Loren. And he had been sure she had had a reason, very likely connected with Lindsey.

Lindsey. Darn it, if it wasn't so sick he would admire the way the man had maneuver through his trial with a wild mixture of lies, truth and leaving things out. Who knew, he had probably stimulated the jury's sympathy by telling them how much Loren had threatened his family. Not that it had helped him much. And he had yielded quickly to the pressure of the two interrogation specialists who had simply bluffed his socks off. Although the outcome hadn't been very promising at first sight.

But life was cynical sometimes. The interesting thing hadn't been the name of the Lieutenant whose case Lindsey had dropped but that of the Lieutenant's elder brother's friend. A friend who had a friend himself: No one else than one of their suspects in the Pentagon - who had obviously provided the dirty money Lindsey had been paid with. The circle had been closed. Naval Intelligence had arrested the traitor within two weeks.

"Commander?"

Webb snapped out of his thoughts and stared at the man who had stepped in front of him, holding out an urn. His mouth was suddenly dry. He reached up but paused before his fingers could touch the smooth surface.

"Sir?" The man looked puzzled.

Webb forced himself to finish his movement, surprised how heavy the urn was and how cold to the touch. For a moment he stared down at it. Cold, yes. Just cold. Well, what had he expected? To find a shadow of the presence of the strong and yet so vulnerable woman he had known and guided and used for more than three years? Had he hoped for understanding? Forgiveness? Absolution?

Because it had been the role, the character he had created that had killed her in the end? Because, if she had been a little less Singer, if she had taken her duty a little less seriously, if she had pressed a little bit less ... would have Lindsey just left her, unconscious from her fall, or even called an ambulance instead of throwing her into the river where she had drowned?

But there was nothing. No, the dead were the dead. This was just an urn holding the ashes of a mother and her unborn child. And nothing else.

"Commander, is everything all right?" The cemetery employee considered the man in a Navy Commander's uniform with concern in his eyes. His look brought Webb's feet back on the ground.

"Yes, it's fine," he answered shortly and turned away from the curious eyes. As he walked away he still felt them in his back. It didn't matter. Uniforms tended to distract the attention of most people and his sunglasses masked his features additionally. If ever questioned, the man would remember a Navy Commander who had had all necessary paperwork to prove his legal claim on removing Lieutenant Singer's ashes for a few days and soon another man would be able to testify that the urn had been returned correctly to its place. Maybe a strange incident but it was very unlikely anyone would ever ask any questions.

There was no one in this world who had interest in Singer's fate - well, at least in the States and Sergei he would be able to handle. No, no one cared ... not after what she had allegedly done to help Lindsey in discrediting JAG headquarters. There Kershaw had stayed out of trouble too but the SecNav's own spy had solved the matter anyway. The man had learned quickly to copy their methods for his own purpose ... and he had a quite calculating mind. There was no doubt he had used Lindsey's hatred for shaking JAG up, breaking their self-confidence ... and then he had stepped in and played the fair superior who punished the fraud.

Webb ignored the glances he got frequently on his way through the cemetery. Officially Loren - the real Loren - had died when the private plane with her, her new boss and a pilot on board had crashed into the sea somewhere off the coast of Australia. Her body hadn't been found. The story had been launched rather soon after her disappearance to avoid desperate questions about her whereabouts. Then, after the NCIS had confirmed her death, someone had paid another visit to her husband.

But Webb knew too well that without proof - hard, solid, cruel proof - the hope never died. The hope that the missing person would some day just walk through the door or give a phone call or stand on the other side of the road, smiling. The least he could do was to end the uncertainty. To give the man - and the family - the chance to go on. For the family Loren's body would have finally turned up in the sea. Or what the sharks had left of it - a perfect explanation for the cremation. For her husband ... the knowledge that his country was sorry.

There would be no honors, no flag from a grateful nation. Not even a nameless star on a wall.

Loren's cover had resisted a NCIS investigation and her cell phone - which's extraordinary technology would have been the only link with any intelligence service - had disappeared somewhere in the Potomac. And no matter who had asked whom to help out or who had done whom a favor ... the whole operation had always been a shade of grey. And too many people had an interest in burying the past. Permission to bring her remains back to the family had been the best he could get under the circumstances.

Reaching the quiet colored car he had chosen for this occasion Webb unlocked the door and slipped into the seat. Carefully he settled the urn into the basket that was placed in the leg room of the passenger's side. For a moment he stared blankly at its contents.

It's very special to me.

The orchid had turned out to be a grateful plant in his mother's hands. It was in full flower the second time since he had removed it from Loren's apartment. A double row of white and pink and sparks of silver, four flowers in each line. Not the best time to transport an orchid, especially considering the long ride up to Chicago. But it seemed right to give it to her husband. And Loren deserved better than to be buried any longer under a name she had hated, under an identity she had despised.

Slowly Webb took his sunglasses off and placed them on his lap. He rubbed his face with both hand then stopped, pressed the fingertips against his tired eyes. Why hadn't she called? Damn it, damn it, why hadn't she called? Not from the Seahawk, not from Washington... Hadn't she trusted him anymore? Had she thought he had let her down? Had she thought he would refuse to help her or that he had no longer the power to? If she had called, maybe - just maybe - he would have been able to do something, anything to avoid what had happened. But he would never know.

Sighing he dropped his hands and put the sunglasses back on. No, he would never know.

Webb turned the ignition and backed the car out. As he reached the highway he threw the cover on the passenger's seat. A few miles ahead he knew a gas station where he would be able to change his clothes.

* * *

The End

--

Author's Note: I've tried to write a story as close underneath the surface of the real show as possible (successfully?). And unfortunately there has been too much evidence of her death + an inconvenient timetable + a lot of other things. I also considered telling the "JAG family" who she had been but that would be a story of its own ... and this was about Loren.

A big thank you for the reviews.


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